


Our Nightly Confidant

by Wisetypewriter



Series: Linked Universe stuff [3]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Because Wind, Confessions, Emotional Support Wolfie, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied Violence, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Secrets, Swearing, The Doggo that was Promised, Theological debates on the nature of Zelda Lore, We stan Twilight and his big brother energy, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26264827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wisetypewriter/pseuds/Wisetypewriter
Summary: They each have their secrets. Wounds still healing from clashes with monsters, some made of darkness, others of hylian's folly. But they are all heroes, they are all brothers in some way. They will fight together to protect all Hyrules. They vowed to defeat this new foe together.Even if, sometimes, the walls they built stop them from seeing each other.Thank the Goddesses for Wolfie.
Relationships: Four & Twilight (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Twilight (Linked Universe), Legend & Twilight (Linked Universe), Sky & Twilight (Linked Universe), Time & Twilight (Linked Universe), Twilight & Warriors (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wind (Linked Universe)
Series: Linked Universe stuff [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599469
Comments: 139
Kudos: 624





	1. Wind from Home

Twilight considers himself a simple man. A farmer at heart, even if he has the hands of a hero. He's grown in a small village, where everyone knows everything about everyone else. Community is a sense that's been cultivated in him as well as pumpkins on a sky island (whatever that saying means).

He loves his brothers and his sort of dad. This quest... he doesn't want to say it's a blessing. It isn't. The monsters threaten many. Their group hasn't always saved everyone. It's no blessing that hurts so many. But he can't help rejoice the opportunity to meet so many heroes. To find his place in the legacy of the Hero of Courage.

As a Hylian from a human village, he's never worried about his place, but he does find peace in belonging to a group with no such innate distance.

He's one of the oldests, weird as that is. Most of the group are like little siblings to him. Weird, insane and irreverent little shits that give him grey hair. No, he's not thinking exclusively about Wild (Wild's a special case). He's attuned to their moods.

Four asked if he had a special sense for this, the second time he'd done it. A 'special' sense, he had insisted in the middle of their training camp, meaning wolf senses. No. Twilight doesn't feel one side of him bleeds into the other. It's not like that.

It's not what makes his eyes trail after Wind today. His youngest brother (barely losing to Colin by a season) is currently laughing his ass off on a tree stump over Warriors tripping on Legend's items. It is denied, not very convincingly, that the items weren't left there on purpose. Little shits, he's telling you.

The truth is more down to earth, the way Twilight likes it. Dogs train themselves to recognize hylian expressions. They know what sadness and joy and anger look like all too well. They know when to cheer their big two-legged friends. And a wolf? Well, a wolf better learn fast the difference between a real smile and a fake if it doesn't want to end up stuck in a bear trap.

***

First watch is always a bit nerve wracking. Unlike second and third watch, Twilight can't just shift into wolf form to sniff out enemies and make sure the whole forest is secure. Links don't fall asleep easily. Legend wakes up at the slightest noise for the first two hours he looks asleep. Time might just stare at the sky the whole night, not getting a wink of sleep. Sometimes, Twilight himself just... can't stop thinking. Wondering where she is now. If she's alright. If Ordon's safe without him. Once in a while, he'll close his eyes and hear Lumi crying, and Uli's quiet steps to shush her.

The other half of the time, it's staying asleep that's the problem. The Goddesses know they all have plenty of material to fuel their nightmares (he's never forgetting Yeta's face, he's resigned to that).

When the moon's path has almost reached its zenith, Twilight hears the first few moans. His heart drops. He hoped. But he's not surprised. Sometimes, the heart can't take the weight of the mask people plaster on.

It starts small. It always does.

For a time, it's mostly sniffles and choked sobs. Then a small 'I'm sorry.' Twilight grimaces. None of them show their scar easily. The _deep_ scars, at least. Wind wouldn't appreciate an audience. Unfortunately, Twilight can't exactly leave. The next best thing however is to try and cut it short.

So, decision made, he creeps around camp, places himself _behind_ Wind and shakes his shoulder. (Carefully. The group collectively learned not to take sleeping Links lightly. At least, Sky had laughed out the black eye with grace.)

“Hey, Sailor,” he whispers, hoping none of the others react. “It's your turn.”

In truth, it's a touch early for that. But he knows he made the right call when Wind rubs his eyes and freezes at the wet feeling on his fingers. He'd been in the middle of turning around, but he immediately fakes a stumble and buries his face in his rolled up blankets instead. It's a good cover to wipe tears without being too obvious.

Twilight would be impressed if that didn't send pangs of worry through his chest. _Oh, Wind..._

“Mrm,” Wind mumbles. “One minute?”

“Sure, I gotta take a leak anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, piss off.” Wind waves him off from under the blanket.

Twilight smiles to himself. He should ask Wind to direct a play next time they visit his Hyrule. Queen Zelda was always in need of entertainment for the stuffy dignitaries. Jackasses couldn't crack a smile if they were whipped.

That faint irritation pushes him toward the end of the camp line, out of the clearing. Once he's out of sight and hearing range, he grabs onto his cursed necklace and sneaks through the underbrush. His senses make navigating through the twigs and branches child's play, and the lack of any pig-like stench reassures him that there's no malice-infected monster around. In less than a minute, he has circled around the camp and positioned himself the near opposite of where his hylian form left through. Generally, people don't make the association if he leaves a few minutes tick by. Out of sight, out of mind.

It's a bit embarrassing how well that trick works.

Wind's head is turned in the direction he disappeared earlier. Skittish, like a rabbit looking out of its hole. Wind must be waiting for him to return from his manly business, which is a bit of a lost bet at the moment. Seconds tick with only the faint brushing of leaves on his fur and the nightly wind for company. Then, all at once, Wind stands up and stomps his way to the stump Twilight had been using for his turn at the watch.

“Damn it!” Wind curses under his breath. The tears are held at bay, barely. “There's no way he didn't see... calm down, calm down dammit, he's gonna come back soon!”

A small boot kicks off some dirt. Twilight flinches in his hiding spot. That's more anger than expected. He's not sure what to do with that. None of them like vulnerability. None of them are used to being _allowed_ vulnerability. He's worked on Wild and Time for a while now, and he's making progress, even if it's only them opening up to him.

It's that same instinct that pushes him to walk through the bush and reveal himself. He's as non-threatening as a large wolf can be, but Wind still whirls around with his sword drawn. Recognition is a second slower.

“Wolfie!” Wind whisper-yells. “Bad dog! I almost skewered you!”

Twilight raises one eyebrow, unimpressed. He is most certainly not a bad dog, and he is quite experienced at dodging last second hits by flailing, surprised preys. Not that he even thought of Wind as prey, never, but Wind didn't have to imply he'd be that stupid.

“Oi, what are you looking at?” Wind grumbles, dropping back on his tree stump. “Stupid dog...”

Twilight fights the urge to growl. He's here to help, not pick a fight. Unfortunately, his struggle had been obvious, because Wind deflates and sheaths his sword.

“Sorry. It's just... I'd been doing so well so far,” he whispers. “Even if they're big mother cuccos about me sometimes, they still listened to me.”

Twilight feels his tail curl between his legs. He knows he's overprotective. He knows it's annoying Wind, but he can't help it when every other time they fight, he sees Colin rushing into the path of King Bulblin.

“Hey, hey, don't be sad.” Wind cajoles, patting his knee like an invitation.

Twilight's too happy to question the change. He plops his chin on Wind knees and looks up. Small, calloused hands run into his fur.

“Do you have family, Wolfie?”

… What? For a second, he slips out of grasp just to better stare at Wind. Then, he sniffs his breath for a second, and whilst there's a fair amount of onions there (dental hygiene, Sailor!), no traces of booze anywhere. So, he softly woofs, tilting his head to the side.

“Do you have a she-wolf and a litter of little pups that trip all over themselves? I bet you're a good dad, aren't you?”

Twilight can't help the shocked whine that burst out of his throat, nor the flattened ears on top of his head. Him? A dad? He was far too young for that! Being a brother to Wild alone was trouble enough as it was, fatherhood remained firmly beyond his grasp. Besides... it wasn't like he had someone with whom...

“Aww,” Wind cooed, scratching behind his ears, “I didn't want to scare you, Wolfie. I just thought you take good care of us, s'all. I bet you'll be a good dad someday.”

Flattered as he is, he can't help puff and huff into Wind's shirt. He's a noble beast, talked down to like a lap dog. At least, he successfully distracted Wind from what nightmare he had.

Together, they listened to the crackling embers, moving only when the flames needed another log or when a critter stumbled too close to camp (a very curious rat that scampered when it met Twilight's eyes).

“How much did he drink?” Wind mutters, a bit later. “Did he pass out with his breeches down?”

A low growl rumbles into his chest. The disadvantage of others not knowing he's Wolfie is hearing that kind of crap about himself. He's a misunderstood man condemned by the judgemental Links of the world.

“What? Don't like him? Twilight's okay. Most of the time. Like, he saw me cry. I know he did. He knows I know, but he still pretended not to... you know?”

Twilight's best deadpan glare expresses that _yes, he knows._ More importantly, he puts a paw on Wind's chest, making a small inquisitive noise. Why? Did he need to share it with a very innocent wolf that doesn't judge anyone and anything except Warriors' morning hair?

The fragile grin on Wind's face falters. His eyes dart around. “I... it's not like... You won't laugh, right?”

Twilight nods emphatically.

“It's nothing too bad. I just miss my sister and my grandma.”

Oh, Wind...

“... Please don't tell the others,” Wind said in a tiny voice. “They already have a hard enough time taking me seriously. I don't want them to think I'm being a baby who cries about his family.”

The confusion can't overtake the lance of shame and heartbreak that spears through Twilight's body. Had... had they pushed Wind into this? Made him think that because they hide their tears, they'd laugh at _his_?! Goddesses... Uli would smack him with her wooden spoon for making a mess like this.

Again.

He might have been a bit overbearing once his quest had ended. Colin had been happy about the attention... the first three days or so. Afterward... well... Uli and Rusl had taken him aside, put their feet down and helped him let go of his dead grip on his little brother's safety. And half the monsters he'd faced had nothing on the challenge of letting Colin make his own mistakes. He thought he'd gotten better about this.

But he might have forgotten Wind was not nearly as tolerant or hesitant as Colin.

“I'm a Hero too. I'm strong. Why would I cry over nothing? My grandma and my sister are fine. I bet we'll be portaled in my Hyrule soon and I'll have worried for nothing and Twilight and Warriors will be right to treat me like a fragile little _boy_ again.”

He's not. They all know he's not. He's just... the youngest. The most cheerful, most innocent, most... most _well-adjusted_ of them all, and they want so badly for Wind to keep that. He's a wonderful young man. They're all so proud, so impressed with him.

He's gonna have a few conversations with Warriors and Time tomorrow. Goddesses!

“Hey, Wolfie... I know you don't like being around too long, but... Do you mind staying a bit?”

Twilight chuffs, stubbornly burying his face even deeper in his little brother's shoulder. As if someone would be able to pry him off Wind before morning.

  
  


***

“Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”

Wind looks up sharply, startled but unwilling to admit it. He'd been polishing that long view of his by himself. “What?” he says, and there's an implied _'the fuck_ ?! _'_ in there. Pirates...

Twilight brushes the grass and then sits on the hill, staring past the coast at the red sun. “My father told me that, the day before I left on my quest. Neither of us knew then I'd _have_ a quest soon, of course. But it stuck with me.”

For a long time, Wind's expression shifts between fascination, embarrassment and a bit of confusion. Twilight really needs to teach him how to maintain a poker face before he plays cards with Warriors again. Still, there's no rush.

For all that it tears him in half, dusk also has a way to sooth his old aches. It's a peaceful time. A moment when the day dies, when the living settle and close their doors.

“It's the horizon, for me,” Wind admits. “When I... the first time, I'd never ever left my island, and all of a sudden, I had to leave because that huge ass bird had kidnapped my sister. So I had to leave my home for the first time, and I was on Tetra's boat, staring at Outset Island shrinking and shrinking till it was gone. Even when I pulled out my sister's long view, all I could find was the waves of the Great Sea.”

“Ah, a boar and a bulblin got my brother, my childhood friend and a bunch of kids. Knocked me right out with a hit to the head.”

Wind pulls his lips together and narrows his eyes. “Well... I didn't get hit or anything, but Tetra threw me out of a cannon so I could infiltrate the fortress. Hit my face pretty hard too. That counts?”

“It wasn't a competition!” Twilight laughs, ruffling Wind's hair. It causes a flinch, and that's the light-hearted mood gone. Great. Twilight breathes through his nose. “You know, sometimes, I really want to smack my dad upside the head.”

Wind blinks. “... Okay?”

“Every goshdarn time I see the sun set, I remember him and my mom and my brother and sister, and... home. Every sunset reminds me of home. Makes me miss it so bad. Now I can't help feel that strange sadness every time.”

Silence.

A snort.

“Goddesses damned!” Wind wheezes out through his laugh. “He...”

“Yup,” Twilight says, leaning his chin on his fist. “He didn't think that one through. Bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, ain't it? So, I do want to make him think before he spouts philosophy at me.”

“Hey, hey, Twilight!” Wind says, impish, tugging on his sleeves. Then, the second he _has_ Twilight's attention, he puts on the most serious face he ever wore. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness... as you put on your pants?”

“You little shit,” he says, brimming with affection.

Wind, not to be undone, jumps to his feet. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness... as you drink milk?”

“Oi,” Twilight stands after him, darting right after the brat.

“Not the strange sadness of being chased by a goatherd!”

Two minutes. Two minutes and six variations of the most profound saying his farmer dad told him. Butchered. Butchered like a lame goat in winter. Twilight is both furious and delighted and it might be why, when he _does_ catch Wind, he unleashes the noogie from hell.

Wind's screams, so closely related to that of a dying piglet, are very satisfying. Worth the kicks to the ribs.

And when retribution is served, Twilight shifts the hold into a one-sided hug with the smooth grace of a man who regularly pretends not to be the wolf that is never seen with him. Wind freezes, realization sharp on his face when he notices the tears gathering in Twilight's eyes.

“But the first thing I'd do if I saw him tomorrow... is hug him. Tell him I'm glad he's okay and that I missed him. _Then_ I'd smack him and run for the hills, because Rusl happens to be the only guy in my village that knows how to use a sword.”

After a whole body shudder, Wind gives up and buries himself in his big brother's shoulder.


	2. Deserted Hyrule

It could be worse. 

Don't get him wrong. He'd gone through far more dangerous situations with not nearly as much ressources, or the faint hope that someone would notice and come help him. He's actually fairly confident he won't die in this ditch. A few factors led him to that conclusion. 

For starters, his legs are no longer broken. And he isn't in _his_ Hyrule, so chances are, he's not in immediate and urgent danger of being found by hungry monsters. Which is a very big positive note, because he currently can't do much more than lift a finger. Healing takes a lot out of him, but healing himself is so much worse. Taking his own energy to repair the damage, also a demanding thing to ask of his body... well, he's pretty resigned to spending the night at the bottom of this ravine if none of the others find him before nightfall. 

Light is dimming, already hindered by the thick foliage all around him, worsened by the imminent sunset. Shadows crawl on the dirt and the bark of trees, tall spindly things. And yet, it still lacks the sort of venomous promises of home. Back home, no one _slept_ in a forest if they could help it. No one with the will to live, at least. Here? He has the feeling he'll, at worse, be spooked once or twice. 

The wind turns, again, and it strokes his hair like a kind old man's hand would. It's strange how appeasing the whistling in his ears feel reassuring. It's nothing like he is used to. Winds don't just stop and start all over again naturally. There's a presence in these woods. Something ancient, tied in the blood of the land. Some Hyrules feel more alive than others. This one is striving, brimmed with an undercurrent of Light. 

Twilight had told them not to wander into the woods. It's got a lot of hidden ravines, he said, and poison mists. Hyrule cringes a bit remembering the heavy look aimed at him and Wild. Were he able to travel through time, he'd tell his past self to pay attention. He might have been too confident in his ability to avoid the danger. Poison and sheer drops should have been second nature for him at this point. Between his fairy and his jump spell, he had this covered. 

That's probably why he fell now that he thinks about it. He never thought bushes could hide that kind of drop. They never grew around the mountains and hills of his era. The thought brings heat to his cheeks. The Hero of Hyrule, laid low by some harmless bushes. 

“Maybe it's best the others don't find me right away. An hour, give or take, and I'll be able to scale this,” he mutters to himself, blushing. 

The snap of a twig grips his heart in a vice grip. With what little energy he has, Hyrule snaps his head around to face a large shadowed wolf. 

“W-Wolfie?” he asks, his voice uneven. 

The bark that is his reply somehow sounds  _sarcastic._ A drawled 'woof' that's like rumbling clouds. 

“Huh.” 

Despite his better judgement, Hyrule does relax. It's hard not to when faced with something that baffling. 

“The others sent you to get me?” he says, remembering the last time the beast had spent hours leading him and Wild through the woods. That glare _scorched._ “Right, right... huh, think you could wait a few minutes.”

It's not much better tonight. 

“Sorry, Wolfie. I got injured in the fall. I healed, but it's taken its toll.” 

Worry makes the wolf's face shift. A cold nose pushes against his foot, and Hyrule chuckles at the tickling sensation. 

“I'm fine. It's... just a bit of rest should do the trick... I give you a lot of work, don't I?” _I am a burden, a failure,_ he doesn't say. 

With a huff, Wolfie rolls his eyes and lifts his head. For a second there, Hyrule has to blink, convinced the light of dusk is playing a trick on him, but no, Wolfie's fur is darkening. From grey to black. Like ink spilled on top of him, bleeding over his entire form until even his eyes are swallowed into the darkness. 

He flinches back, willing his hand to grab his sword. Ache, he thinks. He's been a fool! He was so willing to believe his luck had turned he'd forgotten the most basic safety precautions of his time! 

Blocks of darkness fly off Wolfie's silhouette, which somehow doesn't change. Doesn't stretch into a standing position and a face full of mocking fangs. Wolfie disappears in a flurry of pure black and Hyrule's brain stutters to a miserable stop. 

And then, just above, the darkness gathers, swirls together. And out emerges Wolfie, same as ever, with the markings on his forehead and the chains clanking against the edges of the ravine. Teleportation. 

“You can use magic?!” Hyrule yells, forgetting all about keeping a low profile in the face of that shock. Animals aren't supposed to know magic! Most _monsters_ can't use it! 

For some reason Hyrule can't wrap his head around, his shout causes Wolfie to pause. His next movement is more careful, a little more hunched, and he disappears beyond the edge of the cliff, a hint of his tail the only sign that Wolfie has turned around. 

Sky would tell him that it's another sign that Hylia is watching over them. That she sent Wolfie as a sort of messenger to pass along hope. Something like that. And Legend would have the hardest time keeping his disdain off his face. For all he was prickly, he also had a sixth sense for what was and wasn't an unacceptable line to cross. 

Hyrule... Hyrule doesn't know who he leans toward in that case. Before this quest, he'd have no clue, not because he was uncertain, but because he didn't know what a goddess was supposed to be then. Now that he _does,_ it lacks... appeal. It doesn't help that none of the others can exactly agree who and what the goddesses of the world are, what's the point of belief. 

_'Faith that there's a way to save yourself,'_ rings Legend's bitten answer, whispered late at night. 

It's probably a coincidence that the moment the memory plays out rope drops quite directly into his hand. 

Wolfie is looking down, a low huff and nod for him to grab onto the rope. Even though his every limbs are weighted with iron, he  _has_ to give it a fair try. 

And he drops the moment he's on his feet. 

The dizziness hits worse with the echoes of a panicked bark over the howling wind. He has to close his eyes for a second. What he wouldn't give for a potion right now. 

A rough texture licks the back of his hand. It's not anything he ever got to experience before. What few dogs he knew before this were more the sort to bite than offer comfort. And that's what it is, comfort, an apology, maybe, for pushing. Slowly, he opens his eyes, comes face to face with Wolfie, who lets out a pitiful whine. 

“Sorry,” Hyrule repeats. “I don't think I can climb that.”

The ears flick on top of Wolfie's head, and he grabs the rope in his mouth. Circles him quickly. Oh. That could work. Together, they manage to tie the rope around his waist, secure it tightly, and Wolfie's gone again. The tugs start right away. 

It's uncomfortable at best, but he's not about to complain. Who ever heard of a wolf pulling someone up a cliff before? Throwing someone a length of rope? He figures the discomfort is his punishment for not listening. It doesn't last long regardless. He has to blink back the sleep when his back scrapes on dirt. Groans. Thinks. 

Now that he knows Wolfie can use magic, the scolding feels even worse. He's not scared. Just... the weight of those eyes grew. It's not just Wild's tame wolf being sent after him. It's a thinking beast annoyed at his recklessness. He should know better, the glare inside his head tells him. 

He bites his tongue. The words don't want to come out. 

Wolfie crouches low and nudges him with his nose, hints at his back. An invitation. It makes shame curdle inside his stomach. He can feel it sloshing around. The ravine suddenly sounds appealing. But he can't do that to Wolfie. Not twice in a row. He only has to swallow a bit of embarrassment. He's lucky. So lucky. Most people just die. 

Few people ever seem to live in his era.

Wolfie's fur is still unfairly soft even when he can feel the rolling muscles underneath. He lies on top of Wolfie, his arms hooked around the beast's neck, hoping he's not too heavy. 

Wolfie makes an inquisitive sound, almost a question. 

It takes Hyrule some time to realize he's waiting for an answer too. 

“I, yes, I'm ready,” he says, wishing to disappear. 

They start at a slow trot. His weight is an obvious burden for the beast he's seen rocket through a battlefield to maul a monster about to strike one of them. His next apology might not even be said out loud. Hyrule's not sure anymore. 

Wolfie feels like a well-hidden cave or a barricaded inn room at night. Deep breathes after a sprint to escape a horde. The buzz of magic in his veins, full, potent, ready to fry a daring monster. Face half-buried in his friend's coat, Hyrule's eyelids grow heavy. The exhaustion of his accident, pushed aside by the meeting with Wolfie, is returning with a vengeance. 

He listens to the rhythm of Wolfie's steady heartbeat. The breaking of twigs and brushing of leaves on fur. Little grunts when the wolf goes over large roots and the scritches of claws on bark. 

“I... I used to be pretty scared of wandering off, you know?” he whispers into the wall of fur. 

Wolfie swerves and twists, his big head turning just enough to give Hyrule a glimpse of a wide blue eye. Shock is an understatement.

He can't help it. He chuckles and runs a hand just behind Wolfie's ears, the way Time does on rare occasions. He is rewarded with a huff and a jolt when Wolfie picks up the pace again. 

“It's a dangerous business, going out your doors. So I never did, until one day there was no one left and the food had run out. Then an old man gave me a sword. That's the kindest thing a stranger ever did for me,” he says, fond, the bearded old man flashing through his memory. 

A quiet whine rings to his ears. Wolfie's posture lowers. Hyrule can't quite tell what it means. Is the wolf tired? Ashamed? Exasperated? He's not sure. But now that he started talking, it's harder to stop. 

“Once in a while, I'd meet people that would help me. Offer me shelter. Help me treat my wounds. But nothing like that first time. When I first wandered around, past the little alcove that had been my home forever, into the great vastness of my country. And it was a hundred times bigger than I could imagine from my little hole in the ground. That old man... gave me the world.”

Fireflies fly above, and Hyrule leaves his thoughts to trail off. These woods are lovely. Yes, even with the hidden drops and the ravines with whistling winds, with the deku babas here and there that leer at the wolf too far for them to reach... all he sees is a forest thriving, so full of life it's in the very air he breathes. 

“I... Poisonous mists didn't sound so bad. I've got tons of poisonous rivers, full of hostile zoras. Poisonous swamps, full of monsters. Heck, poisonous caves too... My Hyrule's pretty harsh, y'know?”

A grunt. Not angry. Just... a grunt. 

“Don't get me wrong, it's my home. I love it. And I'm not jealous. I'm not!”

Even though Wolfie is looking forward, never faltering from the obstacles on his path, Hyrule can feel Wolfie's full attention bearing down on him. Can feel the anticipation, the **worry**. And a knot in his chest unties itself long enough for a fear never voiced to suddenly latch onto words and thoughts. 

“But how will I look the princesses in the eye if I can't even describe to them what the world would be like without Ganon's influence? If I can't give them hope for a bright future when I've _been_ to those futures myself? I don't want to fail them.”

Fur soaks up a stray tear or two. 

His tongue refuses to move anymore. They make the rest of the trip in silence. 

***

The others, indeed, hadn't been very pleased, but Hyrule had more or less fallen asleep before the eldests (minus Twilight somehow) had finished berating him. He'd woken up just before dawn, greeted Four still on the third watch, and busied himself until the inevitable. He's not looking forward to the concealed worry on Legend's face or the exasperation on Warriors'. 

He hovers on the outskirts of the camp. 

Which is where he notices, at first lights, their goatherd breaking away from the group. 'Probably going to relieve himself' is Hyrule's guess. It could have been true, but when the others start stirring, Hyrule's hit by a bunch of nerves. Nothing wrong happened to Twilight, right? It's _his_ era, he can't have been taken out by a surprise cliff, right? 

He takes off in the direction he saw his elder leave. And, luckily, he's easy to spot in the plains of Hyrule Fields. There's little but grass and the occasional tree here. Yet, Twilight's crouching behind a rock. 

Puzzled, Hyrule lowers himself to the ground and tiptoes near Twilight. 

“What's going on? Is there an enemy nearby?”

Twilight hides part of his grin by putting a finger to his lips. In his other hand, he's holding some strange weapon. With a long wooden handle and then a circular hand, with... a cloth hood? He... is that something to suffocate your enemy? It's a violent thought, and he doesn't quite associate it with Twilight, their farmhand, their goatherd, who'll whistle with grass on a slow evening. 

It's twice as strange for the lack of visible monsters around. He prays it's not another round of moas or kasutos... 

Responding to an unheard signal, Twilight stalks forward. Crawls on his knees, slow and patient. The pelt on his back is coming alive in Hyrule's mind. He needs to blink, to chase away the image of a wild animal, and by the time he does, Twilight is pouncing, weapon striking a tree. 

“Gotcha,” Twilight says, pumping a fist. 

“Huh?” He couldn't see a thing. Did he forget the cross somewhere...? 

“Hyrule, come here.”

Twilight's hands are cupped together, hiding something from view. It immediately tickles his curious side, who can't help lean forward. 

He gasps. 

The bug's shell glimmers in the morning light. Specks of dust around it catch its glow. Sparkle. He's never seen an animal like this. With hesitant fingers, he makes a reaching motion. A very faint hums of magic brushes against his finger before the beetle scurries backward. That's Twilight's cue, it seems, and the bug is dropped into a glass bottle, cork sealing it in. He can't help the pang of envy that pierces through his heart at the sight. 

Twilight rubs the back of his neck, rueful. “Never been big on going out of my village, it's the farmer in me, but darn if some things don't feel worth the risk. Home's nice, but Hyrule as a whole... s'a place of wonder for me.”

“It is,” Hyrule says, unable to quite look away from the little thing. 

“Want to keep it?”

And Hyrule's heart is sent into a stuttering mess, his hands clenching around the little glass bottle so hard he fears it'll break. 

“I... can I?”

He doesn't dare hope yet. 

Twilight's mouth pulls into a wry grin. “Sure thing. Bit of a hobby of mine at this point. Bug catching, I mean. There's this girl in Castletown that used to pay me to find some for her. I scoured my whole Hyrule looking to find all the golden bug species. Fetched me a pretty rupee.”

“Oh, huh, right, lemme see how much I-”

“Don't be daft, 'Rule,” Twilight says, slapping him between his shoulder blades. “You don't make brothers pay. 'specially not for a bug, of all things. I'll find a dozen the next time I look. Mind you, you might wanna check on 'em once you're back. Queen Zelda told me them buggers can spread like nobody's business. They think each other's shell's pretty too.”

A wink. 

And there's a vision in his mind, of golden lights fluttering through Saria Town at night. Of colonies of radiant ants scuttering in the burning hills and shining dragonflies hanging from reeds. He thinks of that gentle warmth from the beetle's shell, spread like dots over ravaged countryside. Little, in the face of poisoned wells and bone-thin monsters. Little, just a sign that it's not only evil that thrives. Would that be so bad? 

Hyrule's mouth feels a bit dry. He swallows, dares meet Twilight's gaze. “Would it be okay if... if we looked for more of them?” 

Twilight's blue eyes – nearly the same shade as Wild's wolf – flicker back to the camp, and Hyrule fights to keep the disappointment off his face. Of course. Twilight is one of the responsible Heroes. Someone the others say has 'common sense' – that Hyrule never seems to grasp. Going on a bug catching quest was a nice thought, but they obviously can't. They have a mission. The others would disapprove. 

And then, Twilight turns back to him with a look that's startlingly like Wild's. “How fast can you run?” 

He stalls. “I, dunno, the monsters never caught me, but-”

“Good enough for me.”

The bug net is shoved into Hyrule's hands, and it's all he can do to grip it before it slips through his fingers. Yet the moment he's holding it, Twilight bolts, waving a hand to beckon him. 

This... this he can do. Running's easy. Stamina's simple. He's never had trouble pacing himself. It's easy, comforting, to sprint after Twilight's back. For once, his eyes don't wander to the breathtaking beauty of a Hyrule spared the King of Evil's malice. They stay firmly on the black pelt strapped to Twilight's back, the swaying tail at his belt, the pulled hood and ears. There's the same comfort there, the same... _magic_ he found in resting his head against Wolfie's fur. The same promise. Safety. 

It's not a feeling he is used to. But he loves it. 

And he runs, a wide smile on his face, already eager to show the princesses the wonders that their Hyrule might one day have. 


	3. Time for the Forgotten

He wonders. There's a question gnawing at him. Twilight knew. His wolf-boy had not wavered in the slightest when Time had suggested they could be related by blood. He'd been... serious. So serious. Scarily serious. It was a bit of a glance in his mirror shield. The reflection similar enough that it took some effort to mask it with nonchalance. Twilight hadn't been ashamed, more wistful and awed than anything after that talk with Malon.

But he had started to notice the way Twilight looked at him when no one else did.

Twilight knows. Twilight knows and he is a fine young man that Time is so, so proud of. He's not the favorite, because he can't have one. It's a different bond though (something like what he has with Warriors), and he always made sure to never let that influence his decisions on this quest.

The others don't doubt their place with the group. Not because of Time, at least. It's the least he can do for those incredible young men.

He just feels the question come and go in the dark. Twilight hadn't trained with a sword before his quest. Their technique is so similar however... He has to have been taught.

His heart hovers between settled and troubled, and it's the most innocuous thing that tips the balance.

A jab amongst others as they're cutting down wood for a fire, of all things.

Twilight, chainmail and shirt off, wipes sweat off his brows, an axe across his shoulders and a pile of neatly cut branches by his feet. “So slow,” he says, teasing his brother-in-arm a few trees over. “Didn't they run drills like those in the army?”

As always when pricked, Warriors heckles back. “Not every one of us was born in a barn, ranchhand!”

“For your information, I was found in the woods as a toddler, thank you very much,” Twilight replies, taking on an exaggerated snobbish accent. Or what he thinks passes as. It's a bit hard to tell with Twilight's countryside drawl.

The others laugh, join in the mockery, and they don't notice their leader taking a second to digest the news.

Twilight is his descendant. Twilight was adopted at too young an age to remember his birth parents. Might not even know their _names_.

And a wound he thought was closing suddenly bleeds inside him.

***

It's a slow evening, almost night, and they haven't encountered a monster in days. But he's reeling, his head spinning.

His mind is filled with questions he knows are futile. Pointless bites from a cruel, unknowable future.

Which of Twilight's parents had the Hero's blood? Was it a granddaughter or grandson that perished, leaving a little boy orphaned? Had they known? Twilight mentioned having the Triforce of Courage since as long as he could remember. Had his parents learned only then of the heritage? When their son was marked by fate?

Was it a lack of knowledge that had killed Twilight's birth parents? Training?

The Goddesses truly are cruel, to confirm all his greatest fear in the same breath they gave him a glimpse of triumph. He doesn't know how to feel.

Time knows he ought to talk to _someone_ about those things. About the choice he'd been offered. Even if it felt like breathing glass, like baring his own naked flesh to the elements. He's done it before, mostly with Malon, bless his darling wife. He's spoken the words, cried in whispers and fallen asleep on a damp pillow with the arms of his love around him.

He let his Zelda erase all the suffering Ganondorf wrought, and that very act might have condemned his own to an ignominious death. Might have cost Twilight his birthright. Worse still is the knowledge Wind offered him: the timeline hadn't vanished either. What was the point then? A childhood he couldn't recover even with a child's body? A forsaken land threatened by a mad demon?

He should speak.

He... can't.

He sits down on a rock and ignores the few curious gazes of the boys when he pulls open his inventory. Other times, he might play with them, dance on their expectations and see their astonishment while he laughs inside.

He can't laugh right now.

His fingers close on the instrument, which sends a tingling of _power_ through his hand. An ocarina to commune with the goddesses. He's not a pious man, never had the need, but as he raises the pipe end to his lips, it does feel like praying.

The Song of Healing.

Music to sooth pain beyond flesh and bones.

Why, then, does it only sound like screeching to his ears?

He put so many to rest in that forsaken place. Why can't he turn that power on himself? Why is he not allowed the slightest bit of-?

Something hits him in the chest. The last note of the song goes wild, off-key, and it stops the old memory playing in his head. 

“Wolfie?” they call, some puzzled, a few like Wind rather ecstatic by the presence of the pup's beast form.

“... Did he just headbutt the old man?” Legend asks, smirking.

“Maybe the music hurts his ears?” Sky ponders.

Time doubts that. For one, Hylian ears wouldn't hurt enough for that kind of reaction even if he started playing as badly as he felt. No, it was the song that got Twilight into that state.

The whine Twilight makes pulls at some long dead heartstrings. Despite his size, worrying strength and undeniable intelligence, that sound alone gives Twilight the air of a kicked puppy.

_The pup can't know,_ he tells himself. His heritage had been unknown to him until his quest, he mentioned that once. He can't know what the Song of Healing means, what playing it is supposed to do.

But the pain in Twilight's sky-blue eyes speaks otherwise.

“I suppose I ought to be more considerate of our canine friend,” Time declares, dusting off his pants. “My equipment could use a bit of maintenance.”

Busy work. The song had been a bad idea anyway.

As he stands though, he feels Wolfie's fang graze his hands and heels. Tug at his sleeves.

“Not sure he agrees with that,” Wild comments, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Wild knows what this is, and Time has the creeping idea that he's being herded like a goat.

“He'll have to get used to the idea,” he replies, more even than he feels.

The sympathetic feeling is starting to flicker at the repeated nipping. To be a hero, one needs to be stubborn. In this case, Time rather feels this is turning against him. He's rarely been the target of Twilight's protective streak. Fewer still as Wolfie. He is starting to understand that the style of comfort changed quite a bit during the transition. The inability to talk forces his protege to go physical.

And physical for a wolf...

Air is shoved out of his lungs as a massive weight crashes on his back.

“Not gonna work, pup,” Time bites out, trying and failing to keep walking as if nothing is wrong.

Wild's meals are far too rich if this is the result. A big lug of a wolf not knowing his place. He could shake him off, but now his pride is shouting for a decisive victory. He can't surrender so much authority at once. The group's survival and very continued existence depends on it!

His foot hits one of the logs they cut to sit. Of course.

Twilight chooses that moment to jump off. Of course.

Time has no time to brace himself for the puddle of mud. _Of. Course._

Would the Goddesses strike him deaf so he doesn't have to hear the explosion of laughter shaking the camp!

His successor looks awfully smug, huffing and puffing on his side of the dead campfire.

Far too smug, in fact.

And, before he knows what's happening, Time finds himself chasing after that insolent youngster throughout the clearing under the thunderous laughter of seven other heroes.

Wolves are faster, but Time has far too many tricks up his sleeves to be bested. A hundred years of training _might_ allow this brat to compete. MIGHT!

And when he collapses not too long after, it's side by side with an equally panting but not as annoyed pup.

He lets out a long sigh, his head lolling on a patch of moss, and the word is more mouthed than spoken: “Why?”

“Woof,” Twilight barks.

It's nonchalant, a little mocking and very much the non-answer Time would give in his place. He hadn't intended for his wall-building tactics to be turned against him this way. But, he supposes, a teacher can't always choose what his students will take from them.

There is, however, a clear hierarchy that needs reestablishing.

Time's grown up with eternal children. He has years of training in zero-ing of the most sensible weak spots in a body. Specifically, where one is most ticklish.

The effect is immediate, over-the-top and oh so satisfying.

Wolfie jumps five feet in the air. He tries to bolt, but in all his arrogance, hadn't realized he'd stayed too close to escape Time's grip.

(The others are watching with wide eyes as their glorious leader play-fights with their massive wolf-friend. Bets are, perhaps, being made.)

Only when the yipping sounds appropriately pitiful does Time give in and stop his ministrations. With a breathless laugh, he lets himself fall on his side, right next to his infuriating descendant. Clearly, Malon would have to be a stricter parent (Time knows he can't be one if his life depends on it) if this is the standard behavior to be expected of his lineage.

For a moment, Time lets himself lay there, on moist grass, half over, half under a wolf with behavioral problems. The thought, again, that he is promised a family line, that this irritating young man descends from him, soothes the old scars on his heart. Despite himself, his hand finds the soft fur and runs through the coat. He doesn't know the future. Few if none knows the full extent of his past. He's long learned to live in a world of strangers wearing friendly faces, of clueless happiness fueled by nightmares of events that, ultimately, never happened. He's a man of faded dreams, to be recognized only by the most precious few.

Some of the weight shifts, and Twilight's big head lies down on top of his chestplate, a soft glint in those gentle blue eyes. Time can hardly move, even if, at the moment, he finds himself comfortable enough resting with his eldest son.

… Which, now that he thinks about it, is what Twilight had been after all along.

“You damned nosy pup,” he says, smacking himself on the forehead. “It's not your job to worry. It's mine.”

The glare he receives goes straight to his soul. _As if,_ it challenges. They really are the same on that front, aren't they? Him and his eldest?

Time can't even tell when it happened, but his chest doesn't feel tight anymore despite the added wolf head. His worries seem so much smaller when his descendant can wrestle-trick him into submission with ease. The boys would be alright.

“Thank you... ”

It's when he sits down by the campfire later that evening, glaring at a smug Twilight over his bowl of soup, that he suddenly realizes the ache has gone. That the bitterness of all his pain being forgotten just... didn't matter in front of that cheeky boy smirking at him.

Even his heart betrays him by going warm with pride. He's impressed.

It shouldn't be a surprise.

After all, his successor _is_ descended from his Malon too. And she always knew best how to handle him.

“You're getting second watch tonight, pup.”

The grunt of annoyance is hardly repayment for a faceful of mud, but you take what revenge you can get. That's another lesson living with the kokiris taught him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wolf will straight up ambush your angst if he has to. Be warned.


	4. War Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more violence in this one. Be warned if you're squeamish.

Warriors needs fresh air.

The hand resting in the crook of his elbow is soft, but its grip is threatening to cut off the blood circulation to his hand. The pain has steadily numbed as the ladies exchange thinly veiled insults about this or that province and this or that financial ruin.

He used to like this.

The attention, the admiration, the _glory_! When did it start to taste like ash in his mouth?

If his queen heard that thought, she'd have another one of her brutal truths for him. 'When war stopped being a game and became a duty.'

When he realized that not even being the Chosen Hero of Courage would shield him from the game. That it made him twice the target every other soldier was. When the bodies of fallen comrades couldn't go past the numb exhaustion that took him every evening.

“Lady Farosh, Lady Ordonas, if you'll excuse me for a second...” he says, flashing them his flashiest smile.

Lady Ordonas brings out her fan to hide her rosy cheeks and agrees with an obvious giggle. Lady Farosh, whose fingernails are on the verge of piercing skin, delays her reply by the barely polite amount of time.

“Oh, Captain Link, you cannot abandon me so swiftly,” she tries, eyes flickering to her father, an esteemed general in discussion with Impa.

“But of course not, only a second to freshen up.”

The instant she releases him, he pulls away and bows. Though, despite his instincts screaming at him, he doesn't run a straight line for the glass doors of the Queen's ballroom. Lady Farosh would take it as an insult. He weaves through conversations, dropping the minimum expected of him here and there, snarks at a Legend that looks ready to murder Lord Lonnayru (and Warriors wishes him to succeed), never touches a drink or bite offered that he did not pick for himself, and eventually reaches freedom.

The cool night air is a balm on his skin as it strokes his hair and face.

Even the small, military tents he's slept in during the campaign didn't feel half as stifling as that ballroom. And some of the tents, he couldn't even stand up inside!

Above, the moon shines its silvery glow down to the garden's fountain. With the ball in full swing inside, no one walks the peaceful path of stone amidst the roses and the arches. Shame. It's a beautiful place. His first stroll there had been a pleasant experience, though not his first conversation with his queen. Impa had chased away the rest of the escort and glared the patrolling guards into submission. Any attempt to bargain had been met with stony silence and a dare to prove themselves worthier of the Queen's protection than her Sheikah general and mentor.

Warriors stops by the hedgerow. If he focuses, he can see the spot where Zelda sat down, where she picked a rose for him, and pinned it on his breastplate.

They had had hopes for the future. Have. He still has hopes. Don't get him wrong. But he's a little more tired than he used to be. Where had the time gone?

_'Captain Link, I must introduce you to my daughter.'_

Must. Must. Must. Always a 'must', never a 'may'. Duty traps him and the wild beasts know it. They sniffed his blood long ago, and he can only ever bandage the wound so much before it becomes infected.

Traipsing around with the heroes of previous eras is a blessing and a reward that Hylia offered him. A thank you, he feels, and perhaps the beginning of an apology.

“You shouldn't be out there on your own, Captain Link.”

Those are normal words, spoken with careful reverence. Nothing about them should bring his walls up this quickly. But Warriors is no longer accosted by the common soldiers. Hasn't in a long time.

The cracks on his heart spread just a little further. Deeper.

“Someone might try to hurt you, sir.”

The reverence is gone.

And the spear points straight at his chest.

He doesn't have time to bring out his sword.

A snarling mass of fur tackles the traitor, and by the time Warriors can react, the cry of fear stops abruptly. In its stead is a steady gurgle, a fading wheeze. A limb that thuds against the garden grounds.

Warriors doesn't flinch. He's seen worse.

Once his prey has been deemed sufficiently mauled, Wolfie turns to him, muzzle dark with blood, and worry clear in his eyes.

“Good boy,” he says, absentminded, a hand ruffling through the beast's sinfully soft fur.

It's a testament to his companion's state of mind that no warning growl responds to the familiarity. Warriors doubt he would hear it anyway. He's staring at the dead body.

The guard was young. Maybe... Hyrule's age. He must have hated the war, if he'd gone to the front lines. Hell is hardly enough of a description for the dance of bodies and hacked limbs. He had probably lost a brother or a father or a cousin to the fighting, if he was earning his keep in the Queen's castle at that age. Maybe Impa had taken pity on him.

“Simple-minded fools who can't resist basic mind magic,” Warriors repeats, a wobbly chuckle in his voice.

Wolfie noses his hand, and the little shock of cold and wet jolts enough that he can avert his eyes from the traitor. Defeated, the events of the night all playing on loop, he drags himself to a secluded spot by the hedgerow. One from which he can see people coming, with his back to the branches. Wolfie plops down next to him.

“Mind magic. What I wouldn't give for that to be the case,” he confesses to the wolf-like companion. “Hylia. I'd take cowards over this. I'm not asking them to fight my battles for me. Not even fight _by_ me. Just...”

His fingers curl into his scarf. Holds onto the lifeline.

“I just want to be able to turn my back on the people I protect. Is that really so much to ask for?”

Soft fur fills his sight. He ought to resist the urge. An officer must be strong. Cannot let the soldiers down. Fear spreads like wildfire. One spark, and the whole army goes up in flame.

He knows this.

He knows, and he sobs anyway. Farore, please, just for an instant, allow him to be weak.

He buries his face in Wolfie's shoulder, relishes the warmth and protection that comes from the sacred beast. It doesn't matter that some blood splatters might stain his official knight armors. It doesn't matter that for a split second, he doesn't scan his surroundings for exits, potential ambushes and traps. He gives the taut ropes of tension inside him just enough relief.

Until he pulls back.

Sniffs twice, wipes his face once and plasters the charmer smile.

“I'm alright, Wolfie... I'm alright.”

Wolfie doesn't buy it. Makes an inquisitive little whine. A question.

His hand trembles in the fur. “I am. I will be.”

Wolfie turns, quick not to notice one's tears. Strange for a wolf, but he doesn't pounce on their weaknesses. They trust he never will.

Silly as it sounds, there's more than a few noble daughters in that ballroom that could take lessons in civility from Wolfie. At least, in his presence, he _doesn't_ feel like a bloody piece of meat dangling in front of a pack of wolves. Now, that's irony.

“You know... you kind of make me miss Midna.”

Warriors jumps back when Wolfie suddenly straightened, his eyes laser focused.

“Yeah, I know her,” he says, feeling a hint of a real smile. “We have a statue for her in the Temple of Souls. Hell of a woman.”

His hands goes to his sword the second his ears pick up a low growling noise, only to realize it had come from Wolfie. Is... is their canine companion protective of the Twilight Princess? Or, Hylia forbid, _jealous?_ Goddess, that's too cute.

“Shh, don't alert the others,” Warriors says, hands held in front of him in mock surrender.

Wolfie, with very Hylian-like intelligence, puts a paw first on his muzzle, then scratches one of his ears. It's a good point. He'd know first.

Warriors relents before Wolfie starts nipping. He remembers Time's mud bath. “She mentioned you too. Called you her favorite pet.”

He hadn't know what disgruntled looked like on a wolf before, but now he had the perfect picture. No wonder Midna had loved to tease him.

“She went into battle with this shadow spell. Wolf-companions.”

Wolfie's interest shifts into disguised wariness. There are hints that he might like to pull back a bit, but Warriors' hand remains firm on the back of the wolf's neck.

“Called her main one Rinku,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows. “Reminds you of something, huh?”

Wolfie blinks. Then blinks some more. He's almost completely frozen, like he has no clue what to make of that information. Or is trying to choose the _right_ way to react. And when he does, Warriors bites down on a burst of laughter.

The puppy eyes. The good boy smile. It's worrying how they almost work.

Almost.

Warriors keeps a sly grin on his face and waits. He's in no hurry to return inside the palace.

It takes another change of beat in the music coming from the ballroom before Wolfie gives, and shadows swallow him.

“Since when?” Twilight says, sighing.

Warriors' smirk is immensely punchable, he's aware. He loves to live dangerously.

“Are you implying that I would deliberately play dumb so that one of my fellow Hero of Courage would act like a dog when he doesn't need to? That I knew from the very beginning and asked Wild to take pictures for posterity? For shame, Twilight.”

A vein twitched under Twilight's jaw. “No, I wasn't implying that. I was saying you're an _asshole, Wars!”_

Warriors fails to dodge the lunge, half-paralyzed by muffled chuckles. The momentum throws them on the grass, and there's a split second of disorientation before his back hits the ground, and a weight lands on his chest. A heavy weight. Goddesses be good, the farmer lifestyle paid, huh?

“Twilight, move your fat ass.”

The mullish expression on his brother's face would have made a raging moblin sweat. “No. We're still doing this. I have a great track record, and I'm not letting you narcissistic goatfiddler break it by being your usual self. Talk.”

His eyes widen in alarm. “Really? This is the setup? Me, suffocating, and you, thinking of a place to hide my body. What is this, a deathbed confession?”

“You could have had the amazing emotional support of everyone's favorite wolf. But noooo, you're too good for that, so spill. Better be fast, because I had double serving of Wild's chili. Gives me gaz like thunder.”

“You. Wouldn't. Dare.”

The silent glare he receives is all Time.

Warriors squirming renews. “Farmhand, I will skewer you on the Master Sword myself if you don't-”

“Why would you go off on your own like that? We were all in the ballroom. You could have gotten any of us.”

“Let's not reverse the roles here,” Warriors hisses, one eyebrow raised. “I'm not the one playing double-life around our group. You can't talk about trust when you constantly hide in plain sight. You want trust? You tell me why.”

The boyish, almost light air between them breaks. Guilt blooms on Twilight's face. He can't meet Warriors' gaze and doesn't even try.

“... It's Dark Magic.”

“I couldn't care less. I've fought amongst noble fighters with dark magic and against monsters with the opposite. Next.”

Twilight's ears droop slightly. It's dog-like, and amusingly fitting for a moment of hesitation. Every second that passes without a word hammer the fact that 'dark magic' is the surface excuse for Twilight's shifty dealings about their group. Warriors _tries_ not to be angry. Twilight did just save his life with that very secret.

“I've had...” Lips mull the words for a few seconds. “Mixed reactions.”

Warriors feels himself frown. “Mixed how?”

“You know me, the country boy, raised in the small farmer village lost in the woods. Country bumpkins, the lot of us... You ever heard what they think of wolves?”

His breath hitches. Slow dread creeps on him. He hates the ease with which images come to him. He's never seen Twilight's hometown, never met any of his family, but he's suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of a mob of pitchforks and pickaxes held high, of dogs barking through the woods as a grey wolf scampers. Narrowly avoids a bear trap snapping its deadly maw on thin air instead of a limb. Overhears angry grumbling about making a pelt out of his skin.

They should be farmers, but he sees old faces instead. Soldiers. Commanders. Officers. Brothers-in-arms he's long trusted. Thought he _could_ trust.

“W-what do they know about those majestic beasts?” he says, jokingly because he's afraid to let the mask slip an inch. (It'd fall a mile, shatter too hard for him to ever glue back the pieces.)

“My father threatened to skewer me,” comes the quiet admission, less than a whisper.

Warriors' heart squeezes. “Twilight.”

“Didn't know it was me though,” Twilight adds, failing at even a small smile. “To him, I was just this wild animal circling the village right after most of the children had been stolen. He... he only _threatened_ me. Just words. Nothing like what you had to deal with.”

“The words are the worst part for me,” Warriors hears himself say. “I hear them in my nightmares, even if I forget what they tried to do. Couldn't tell you who came at me with a spear, with a sword, with a dagger. But I see their eyes in the mirror, the hate as they died.”

“The fear. The 'Get back, beast!' and the screams.”

“'It's your fault!'” Warriors repeats, the same tone that echoed in his head. “'You should have died instead!'”

Twilight's face twists, and there's a split second when Warriors thinks his heart will give out. Even the shadows of Twili magic can't compare to the darkness that covers the blue of his eyes. But Twilight turns his head to the side and spits in disgust.

It hits the traitor's cooling corpse.

“Bastards,” he says, venom lacing his tongue. “Should have made that last.”

 _He says, with blood all over his face_ , Warriors thinks dryly.

It's a sharp contrast, that violence on him. Twilight has always had that air of earnest, straightforward honesty. One look at him and strangers will put their trust in him without hesitation. He lacks the battleworn scars (at least where it's visible), is old enough to be taken seriously and his bumpkin accent breeds familiarity with most commoners they meet. Warriors himself has to deploy all his charms to get the same results, and he's still being glared at by a lot of the men.

They peg him a charmer, and not without reason.

“I don't like it either,” Warriors says, quiet.

“What?” Twilight replies, an eyebrow raised.

“The knight act, you know.” And before Twilight's mouth can drop – “At least, some of it. The game. The doublespeak. The mask. It all feels pointless sometimes.”

“I... really?” Twilight's baffled words hurt, just a little.

Warriors scoffs. “Yes, really. I'm not meant to play knaves and daggers. I'm a soldier. An officer. I'm meant to be out there, defending the kingdom I love. Inspiring the people to fight back against darkness, to stand up for their lives. To be at the front of an army, to _lead_ as one amongst the great... it's incredible. It's what I was born to do, I know it in my bones. The act is necessary. But by the Goddesses do I wish I could live without it.”

He sees the way his meaning worms itself past Twilight's gaze, understanding dawning on him. “No matter where one goes, huh?” Sheepish ruffle of his own hair. “Is it something in the water?”

“Like they'd lower themselves to drinking _water,_ ” Warriors sneers, a smirk hidden underneath. “Wine only, my good sir. And only the finest year, from the finest yard. Vintage, my good peasant, it's all the vintage that shows breeding.”

“They do know that for everyone else, breeding is something you check for your horses and your dogs, right?”

“I... couldn't tell. I've stopped listening a while ago. I just nod and play my handsome part. It is the only use for a Hero once the King of Evil has been defeated, it looks like. I don't know if I even should call myself a knight anymore.”

“Wild was touched, y'know?” Twilight says, looking up to the moon. “When you called him an honorable knight,” he adds with a sigh. “He's always associated his life before the Calamity to knighthood, to that incredible soldier that had trained for a decade before facing his destiny. Someone whose shadow he chased for months, not realizing it's his own. You might have been the first to call his current self a knight.”

“He _is_!” Warriors near jumps to his feet. “Wild may be unorthodox, but he is a loyal, devoted man that served Hyrule to the best of his ability despite having lost _everything_ but his life to the cause. Most _generals_ in my army could not even measure up to his standard.”

“Should have seen the look in his eyes when I mentioned it.” There's a hint of sadness beyond the pride and joy of this memory.

He hates the curdling feeling that brings forth. “Remind me to knock a couple of heads together next time we visit his Hyrule, would you?”

Twilight's chuckle is fond, gentle. “Yeah, that's what I meant. I never thought to tell him in those words. To me, he was always good enough. But you saw that side of him too. You know what it's like to want it. I can't relate that well to this, but... well, anyone under your command has to look up to a guy like you.”

Hands ball into fists. Eyes drift to the corpse. “Not everyone does. Obviously.”

Twilight bumps shoulders with him. “I'm sorry, pretty boy. I'm sorry these assholes think they have any right to blame you. To resent you. You're an amazing leader. Much better than me. I... I honestly admire you and your skill.”

Warmth settles in his stomach. He can't... For a second, he needs to blink away tears.

“So he admits it.”

There's a wry, wolfish quality to Twilight's grin. “You speak a word of it, and you'll meet an unfortunate fate, Captain.”

“As if anyone but my Queen could make me fall in battle,” he laughs, pushing Twilight's shoulder, hard.

“Careful there.” His brother's grin sharpens, and the returning shove almost sends Warriors crashing into a bush. “You might touch my cursed stone, and then you'd be stuck as your true self. What would your queen think if she saw a plague-ridden _rat_ try to command her armies?”

Laughter bubbles in his chest. “Be happy to send the rat to infect the goat-loving hillbillies before they spread out of their mudholes! Imagine the half-goat, half-hylians that would invade Hyrule!”

Twilight's gauntlets fall to the ground. Knuckles are cracked. “A'right. Someone needs an asswhooping.”

He could not stop smirking if the Goddesses ordered him to. “Bring it, dog-boy. I'll put a collar on you.”

Taunts, past this point, become superfluous. The breath they would waste could be better utilized trying not to die (lose) against this moblin (his brother) and his freakish strength (no, really, he pushes giant metal crates on _ice_ , the goron-born idiot). The honor of Hyrule rests on his victory.

At some point, they roll over in the fountain.

This does not, in fact, stop their roughhousing.

***

“Should I ask why you both have black eyes and split lips when no one noticed any monster for miles?” Time wonders at his seconds-in-command. “While we were attending _a ball_?”

“ **No,** ” they growl with a ferocity to chill bones.

“Not fair!” Wind protests, to the nodding of most. “Why did _they_ get to have all the fun?”

Ah, youth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twilight and Warriors compete for big brother energy, not realizing they're the dumbass twins that both claim to be older by a few minutes when, in fact, their parents just change the order whenever they want one of them to do something.
> 
> Or, when you try to pull your therapist hat on your brother and he decides to pull his own and you have to compete for dominance...


	5. Four steps in my shoes

Four feels strongly.

In general, as a rule, but also in this specific situation, where sweat sticks his hair to his forehead and the pegasus boots chaff from constant overuse. From the slight burn of his arm muscles that nonetheless keep swinging the Four Sword.

Amazingly, the emotion at the forefront of his mind cannot be easily and neatly assigned to one facet of him. Annoyance isn't exclusive to any one side of him, quite the contrary. And the 'you can go die!' disdain is a taaaaad too specific as well.

White paws sweep at him and barely miss the top of his head. _Would_ have hit Ezlo, if this had been his first adventure. The pang of nostalgia doesn't help his focus much.

Small bursts of magic and swings of his boomerang sting enough to keep his enemy on the backfoot. Behind him, a few roots twist enough for an opening beneath the trunk. If he can just...

The paw slams inches away from where he was standing a second earlier.

Urgh. It had to happen _after_ they marched all day in search of civilization, didn't it?

Well, nothing to it, Four adjusts his sword and glares back at the slitted eyes trailed on him.

Which is when the loudest, most _thunderous_ bark he ever heard **rips** the air in half and hammers in his eardrums. The white monster (cat) yowls in fright, fur straight up in horror, back arched, and it sprints right up a tree.

Wolfie is a familiar sight, and a welcome one at that.

But some instinctive part of him that is more Minish than Hylian can't help grip the Four Sword tighter. From this perspective, Wolfie has more in common with Wild's divine beasts than a regular animal. His _claws_ look about as tall as Four himself. And at the moment, the wolf is displaying a mouth full of fangs that promise a painful death.

He doesn't blame the cat for scampering. He's seen what those fangs can do to a throat. Or a wrist. Or an ankle. No, really, he thinks the cat shows great wisdom in getting the hell out of Wolfie's range.

But, because _he_ is a Hero of Courage, he flips the sword in his hands, sheathes it and waves his arms.

“Twilight!”

The shift is instantaneous, and a little amazing to witness. The ears perk up, the posture straightens from its crouch, the teeth all disappear behind the black lips. It's a flip of Pacci's cane, a turn on a rupee, and there's the big beast their group loves.

“You okay there, Smithy?” Twilight asked, sniffing him for signs of injuries.

It's strange, hearing Twilight's voice coming through the sort of mental-bond-language of the Minish. Useful though. He's not certain he currently possesses the patience for some games of charades with a wolf.

“No injuries.” He puts a hand on the damp nose even as a burst of hot air washes over him. “Just a bit out of breath.”

“Right.”

It's not a doubtful tone, but there's some Time-patented exasperation in there.

“I would have been fine, you know?” says the part of Four that is a bit younger. “I dealt with lots of monsters even at this size.”

(Not Wolfie size though, that he thinks might be beyond him when shrunk.)

The flat look he receives makes him want to squirm.

He's too controlled for that.

“Yes, yes, I know.” He waves off the implied question. “I _thought_ the innkeeper's cat was still inside.”

“He was. But after he mewled a bit, his owner let him out. And when I didn't see you... I had a feeling.”

Four wants to hit his head against a tree. Animals always were more aware of the scent of Minish magic. Many eyed him curiously when he walked through town. He should have known the cat would want to stalk after him. Probably thinking he knew where a village was hidden. He's going to have internal arguments about this all night.

“Cats are all bastards.”

To Four's amazement, Twilight's tail curls between his legs, his ears drooping. He rather looks more the guilty dog part than the majestic beast he insists he is.

“... But they're so cuddly.”

“When you're bigger than them, maybe,” Four deadpans. “Sneaky little shits.”

Twilight's whine is absolutely ridiculous and enough to make him snicker.

“Fine, fine. I'm not deaf, I hear what they say. Not as bad as cuccos, though.” Twilight's gaze wanders off to a faraway place. “Nothing is as bad as those psychotic birds.”

They lose a moment reliving their trauma over the feathered fiends.

Twilight shakes it off first. He lies down, his body like a hill of dark fur before Four, and hints at his back. Any protest Four might have had before dies in the face of his aching legs. He _can_ fight off monsters at this size, but it's unreasonably more complicated. And he is not in the mood to stab spiders in the face tonight.

The fur is silky under his fingers, which is comforting but also a bit of a pain. Climbing means parting the coat of dark hairs and finding grip against skin. Sometimes, the body under him flinches or trembles, like Twilight is fighting off the urge to roll over. Four imagines it's quite similar to tickling. So he hurries up and makes his way up to the top of Twilight's head. Between the ears and roughly around the markings on his forehead.

Satisfied, Twilight stands, and the whole world blurs like he's still using his pegasus boots. A few more steps are needed before Four's body adjusts to the speed, and then he can relax. Twilight's safe.

And, he notes, not heading straight for the inn.

“We noticed the looks, you know,” Twilight says, because he's one of those busybodies that can't help mother cucco everyone around him till they are 'right as rain over a spring'.

“So?” he replies, even, _practiced_.

(Zelda had questions, at first, then orders that were swiftly obeyed, _when in her sight_. He hasn't told her that yet.)

“... How many of them do that?”

Do what? He wants to ask. The inn's owner had been quite polite, very careful in avoiding certain words around Four. Indeed so careful that Four could feel their syllables get more and more defined by the innkeeper's silence.

“Whisper?” he settles for. “A few. I'm weird, I know. Shorter than some kids, but can lift a hammer to forge. Own my business outside Castle Town, only shows up for groceries, talks to myself sometimes and stares at empty spots on shelves. I don't know, I suppose they expected me to apprentice beforehand, but there was a kingdom to save and what did that matter _then_?”

He punches the ground next to him before remembering too late it is Twilight's head.

The growl doesn't last. But the first few words he says are a bit more bitten out than the tone implies.

“There's a kid in my village. Younger than you. Couldn't lose the baby fat in his face for the longest time.” Twilight snorts, and his tail wags a bit. “And he's smart, really smart, a lot more mature than his older brother too.”

Four has a feeling that's partially due to the older brother's personality, but holds his tongue.

“People whispered behind his back. 'That boy is so creepy.'”

“Fey-touched,” Four says before he can hold back the red in him.

That one hurt. He's picked up habits from the Minish, he's aware. Little things like leaving keystones lying around for other kids or tiptoeing minish rings in the grass. But for those differences to matter so much, he hadn't expected until the first time the words had been floating around him.

“Ah,” Twilight says, followed by a whole lot of nothing.

Crickets around them sing. He can almost see some Minish putting a collar on the bugs to bring them home for a concert. Moving from behind stalks of grass, praying to the moon and the goddesses.

Then, Twilight says: “That takes me back.”

Four stumbles through the fur, his hands grasping on some new strands, but he can't tell if his unbalance is due a jolt in their steps or to the enormity of the idea. _Twilight,_ the stereotypical rancher, seen as an outsider?

He tries, but all his brain conjures up is a much shorter version of Twilight dragging goats by the horns. That and dancing (badly) to the melody of a grass whistle.

Even from his spot atop Twilight's head, the eye roll is obvious despite being out of sight. “The only Hylian in a village of Humans?” he drawls. “Found as a toddler lost in the woods? Hardly able to speak for a while?”

 _Oh_ , Four thinks, _that'd do it._

“They don't have the right to say that to you,” Twilight growls. “You're their hero.”

He could bask in the warmth. Lets himself lie down on Twilight and forget all about the events of tonight.

Curiosity wins, or well, _violet_ does. “What did you do?”

“Nothing special? Just stayed the same and let them talk.”

Four's eyes bug out. “That's it? Nothing? How does that change anything?”

“When you're _you_ , Four... When you're a good person regarldess of rumors and whispers... Idiots don't stop talking, but the ones that are worth it stop listening.” A wolfish grin breaks out on Twilight's face. “Besides, you should have seen their black eyes after Rusl heard them say it to my face. After that... well, they could have called me the King of Evil and it wouldn't have mattered. Knowing you got someone in your corner's better than hollow praise from idiots.”

Four blushes.

He forgot for a bit, and he'll apologize to Zelda when he sees her, but it's true. Whenever he recalls that moment, the guard's words aren't ever the same. The phrasing lost all its power, outshone by the impassioned defense and the sheer _anger_ wielded by his friend.

His back straightens. And he allows himself some childish pride in having the Princess of Hyrule in _his_ corner. What do they have to beat that?

Twilight rumbles a laugh. “So... yeah, ignore them. Put them in their place if you want, the goddesses know you have the strength to do it, but that won't change their minds about anything. If you want some peace of mind, discard the idiots.”

Companionable silence falls between them. Four doesn't feel the need to speak after that bit of reassurance. They circle the woods, avoiding Hylians late on the road and monsters alike. Twilight's seemingly content just taking him on a ride, and Four's loath to admit he wants the moment to last a little longer.

They're not too far back from their starting point when he decides to ask: “About that kid?”

“Malo?”

“Yeah, him, how does he deal with it?”

Twilight does not answer right away. He first jumps over some large, gnarled roots and growls at a fox that seemed a bit too curious about the smell of Minish magic. Four's grateful for the time to calm his pounding heart.

“Well, Malo just stares at them until they get uncomfortable. Then he asks them what they're looking for. It never seems to affect him too much.” – discomfort hits at that, and Four can't tell _why_ – “But, well, it also happened in front of _me,_ you know? And I take after my Pa. So I might have knocked a couple of heads together in Castletown. Followed by a strong talking to. Not that Malo appreciated that I ran off some of his customers.” A sigh. “That kid, I swear.”

Four grimaces. That type of 'customers'. Will think they bless his forge with their presence, praise him to all ends, then turn around and whisper. “I'm sure he's grateful inside.”

“Eh, I hope so, but it's his call in the end. Can't live his life for him.” Some muscles roll, and Four gets the impression of a shrug. “Speaking of, what do _you_ want to do, Smithy?”

The question takes him by surprise, and it's silly that he didn't expect it.

He knows that Twilight would spend the night outside with him if he asks. They're no strangers to outdoor camping and the woods of his era are less dangerous than most. Wolfie would intimidate most if not all the creatures that live inside it.

But it would be illogical to sleep in the woods when they have more than enough rupees to pay for some rooms in a local inn.

Four is reasonable. It's one of his trademarks as a Hero. Mature for his age. Calm. Collected. It's how he's taken seriously as an adventurer. Why would he shatter an illusion that useful? Over some mild ostracization?

'Serve it cold,' says one quarter of him.

Another sides with Twilight. Their big brother made a good point. They couldn't be bothered by every single ungrateful person out there. They'd always exist, so let them stew in jealousy and paranoia and fear. He has the favor of the Princess, his best friend. What does he need anger for against a countryside shop owner?

But, the blue in him counters with an hammer-like argument: 'No, the best revenge is **_both_ **.'

The others would be a little mad, he thinks. A little.

He's usually mature enough not to get in trouble. He's due for some insanity and explosions. Wild would back him up here. And it might be his voice in his head that pushes the words out of his mouth.

“So, not that I haven't listened to a word you said, but, _hypothetically,_ if I needed help knocking heads together...”

“How many heads? Wars mentioned an interesting technique he learned from his sparring with some Sheikah general the other night. Though, if you'd rather, I can say, without boasting, that a lot of grown men weep at this form. It's embarrassing for everyone, I tell you.”

Four snorts, struck by mischief. “We're going to need to find a stump. I might have a plan.”

Yes, Four contemplates, the glint of wolf fangs under the moonlight is just as terrifying as he figured it would be. He can't wait.

***

Legend is silently debating with Sky over the right to punch the innkeeper in the face. It's a fierce debate communicated entirely through raised eyebrows, scrunched up nose, muted snarls and meaningful looks.

The others' patience is steadily fraying at the edges. It's especially noticeable with their youngest. There are fireworks going off on Wind's face. The knife cutting his slab of meat to pieces steadily stabs into it every time the innkeeper's mouth opens.

“And where are you fine young men traveling to?” he says with a customer pleaser smile.

'Fine young men'. Ah! There's a thing he didn't say about Four. The fucking nerves of this man.

“Far,” Time replies, his tone even, but his expression thoroughly unimpressed.

“Ah, yes, of course...” the innkeeper says agreeably. “You, huh, you'll be going with the, ahem, with the boy, I imagine?”

How dare he sound _hopeful_? And ‘boy’?! This man's livelihood is owed to the smithy! And he doesn't even have the excuse of mind control!

A hint of shame tickles the back of his mind, when he had first heard the innkeeper talking. He had sounded nothing like the ones from his era, who sometimes refused him entry outright on the basis of old and false accusations.

This current attitude was, technically speaking, a strict improvement over that.

But does the man have to come alive and become so at ease serving them food whilst the Hero of this land take a walk outside? Alone, at night?

Legend grunts into his mug. The rancher left after the smithy, so that ought to solve the 'feelings' question. A bit of a stick-in-the-mud he might be, but Twilight's one of the few he would trust to help navigate difficult feelings. He's got the patience for it, unlike a lot of them who tackle everything the way they do a dungeon, with reckless abandon.

Yet, in the cozy warmth of the fire in the hearth, over the hesitant plucking of the minstrel's chords, a howl suddenly calls to the moon.

They, alone, do not tense.

The howl echoes a second time, much louder. _Closer_.

The innkeeper shoots them a desperate look, but Legend suddenly realizes that he is blind, and possibly deaf. He has no reason to stand up, much less draw his sword. And, would Farore look at that, his condition is contagious!

The hinges creak as they inch open.

If Legend were not so experienced, he might have been nervous. But he's better than that. He leans back in his seat, places a hand on Hyrule's shoulder, and sips his ale.

There in the doorway, cut in shadows with the moon as backdrop, riding on a large grey wolf, Four raises both arms high in the air.

“Fear my unnatural power,” he says with as ominous a voice he can produce.

Warriors snorts, cheeks reddened by alcohol, and he gives a thumbs-up to their smith, despite the owner's pale complexion.

The mugs left on the table begin to shake. _Oh,_ this is gonna be good.

It starts with a pair of squirrels and a owl, neither obeying their instincts in favor of swooping inside the inn. Followed by a handful of moles, fireflies and stray dogs.

In a flash of white, the inn's cat bolts inside the inn, meowing, till it reaches its owner's legs and climbs onto him. It perches itself on his bald head, seconds before the first _deer_ bounces inside the building.

Epona breaks the first table.

But the three raccoons lunging after his cat are what make the owner scream.

Legend guffaws in his ale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twilight, in this chapter: the best revenge is a life lived-well, patient men see their enemies float down the river, do not let yourself be consumed by anger, I have a dozen zen koans, my little friend'  
> Four: 'But supposing I wanted a tinsy tiny bit of revenge...?'  
> Twilight: I support this initiative with all my heart. Let's go, critters! Let's go, critters! LET'S GO, CRITTERS!'
> 
> Or, no amount of Wisdom can overcome this wolf-boy's protective instinct.


	6. Live up to your own Legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much, besides a lot of musing on eating meat for some reason. Oh, and a bit of an identity crisis.

The pink has largely faded from his hair and Legend is ready to put that humiliation behind him.

He is.

But the problem with sharing your secrets with others is they constantly remind you that they know. Oh, they are subtle about it. For all that Sky and Twilight are earnest and open, they can both clam up with the least social of them.

A smirk stretches his lips as, despite himself, Legend recalls the 'incident' if it could be called that.

The whole group was there, sitting by the campfire, digging into one of Wild's stew. The blend of herbs, potatoes and meat had been one of those hearty dishes for calm evenings after a weary day of traveling. It was quite tasty, and Legend was content to fill his stomach with hot food. It was more than he had been able to do on many, _many_ evenings during his adventuring days.

It had just so happened that some of the others agreed, and were much less silent in their enjoyment.

“Man, Tetra _wishes_ we could eat that well on the sea,” Wind said, waving his spoon around without a care for the splashes of sauce. To be fair, neither Hyrule or Wild seemed to be bothered either.

“Yeah, it's great, Wild,” Hyrule agreed. “What is it?”

“Rabbit.”

Sky's mouthful sprayed out of his mouth in a dramatic cloud of sauce and half-chewed meat. And because someone upstairs had decided that Legend had suffered enough, the person sitting directly in front of Sky at the time had been Warriors.

The ensuing chaos had given Legend time for his stomach to settle, and he suddenly had the answer to a question he had never meant to ask, but he would, indeed, have made a delicious meal if the monsters of the corrupted Sacred Realm had ever caught him. It truly was just like Wild to provide that kind of answer to Life's hidden (and for good reasons) secrets.

The Goddesses love a good joke at their heroes' expenses, didn't they?

Yet, the worst part might just have been what he had realized afterward. Twilight, chillingly, hadn't reacted much beyond a chuckle at Sky's reaction and a pat on the back to a confused Wild. He'd also finished his bowl despite the incident happening before he had.

Legend wishes he knew how to feel about that. Even today, he has mixed feelings on Twilight's non-reaction. Above all things, he is _not_ a rabbit and the rancher is not a wolf. That's the reflection of their inner light when shrouded in shadows of dark magic. It's a curse. Twilight can make use of a curse all he wants (he can't judge, what's with Ravio's bracelet), so long as he doesn't let that shadow crystal near him again.

Unfortunately, he can't exactly put it out of his mind when Sky took him aside during the morning and apologized, both for the scene and, well, you know. Sky, sweetheart that he is, mentioned that he told Wild some tall tale about it being sacred in Skyloft or something. Wild would try and avoid rabbit meat from now on.

Legend's words of gratitude come out through a curtain of heavy rain to his own ears, it feels like. The consideration is more than he knows what to do with. And... and part of him wasn't even _asking_ for it. Heroes must stand on their own two feet.

So, yes, perhaps he is a bit more cautious than usual when traveling near Twilight or Sky today. Maybe he does slide over to the corners of their battle formations away from those two. He needs time to think, and he's no moron. He's not gonna let that affect his performance in battle in the slightest.

In fact, he was the one to land the killing blow on the hinox. Ice rods to freeze its feet, followed by a jumping great spin. Warriors lets out a low whistle upon witnessing it.

Legend's bow is only mildly sarcastic. That was damn fine fighting, if he says so himself.

They made progress today, and are nearing their objective, one of Wild's shrines. One covered in the darkness of a moonless, starless night at all times. But they do need to clean their scraps and maybe heal that concussion. Nasty hit, but Hyrule's is firm: Wild will be good as new after a few rounds of healing magic and a fairy. Which, for once, they have to spare.

Food, on the other hand...

“I've got some salted jerky,” Twilight offers.

“Ooooh,” Warriors feigns enthusiasm. “And with my goron bread and Hyrule's salted cheese, that'll be sure to finish the job.”

Hyrule's hands, which had been illuminated with the Life spell signature, twitch. “Hey! What's wrong with my salted cheese?”

There is hesitation, most of all from Legend, and then Four takes the dive. “It could give a family of plague-spreading rats a run for its rupees.”

Sad, but fair. Hyrule's cheese is a testament to his cooking as a whole. It might be edible, but Nayru herself wondered _how._

Hyrule's back hunches a bit before he straightens and turns away from the other with a huff.

Legend's hands hover uselessly at his sides. He ought to say something. He _wants_ to say something. Except he's not gonna lie and say the cheese is okay, because even Ravio wouldn't try to sell it. And then his chance is lost.

Time steps in. Strides right in the middle of the group, massaging his sore shoulder and running a hand through Hyrule's hair as he passes him by. “Alright, you've had your fun, but we do need to decide on a course of action for our next few meals. There's still plenty of mushrooms and fruits in Wild's slate.”

Sky offers himself. “I can whip up something. It won't be great, but it'll be filling.”

“Okay, but we can hunt too, can't we?” Wind jumps in. “Like, we're not in a malice-infested area or anything. I know I saw a couple of goats and deers earlier on the road.”

His stomach takes that moment to growl. And his mind wanders back to Wild's previous meal last night. His mouth even waters, before he remembers everything else about the stew and there goes his appetite.

“We've got plenty already,” Twilight says.

“Yeah...” Four gives him the side eye. “No offense Sky, but it'll be bland enough without some meat.”

It's one of those truly bizarre quirks. And Legend gets it. He hasn't survived this long without being able to understand different people. There's a... well, not certainty, but an assurance when it comes to food security and times of peace. He gets that farmers have dry years, chu-chu infestations and the likes, but Legend's known all his life to never pass up an opportunity for food, and he sees it even more pronounced in Hyrule.

It's their damned timeline. The whole thing is doomed to die.

“Let's skip another radish failure, shall we?” Legend snarks. It's only a fraction of the resentment in him, but it helps settle his heartbeat.

“I think you're outvoted, pup.”

A look of annoyance crosses Twilight's face, but he holds his tongue. _Another way we are nothing alike,_ Legend thinks.

“We need people to forage, hunt and make camp. And look over the wild cub.” And so Time begins to pair them off, balancing them between skills and health. It's all fine and dandy, until the Old Man looks at him and Twilight, deadpan, and shrugs. “I've got a good feeling about the two of you working together.”

Sometimes, Legend just really wants to deck Time. He's certain others share this feeling. Even Twilight, for all he plays the dutiful son's part.

“Alright,” Twilight says, patting him on the back as he leads the way outside the camp. “Let's do this. Can't let Pretty Boy show us up, can we?”

Legend snorts. So, maybe they share _one_ or two traits. But he's willing to chalk that up more to Warriors being ungodly annoying at times.

“Not gonna throw off my aim, are you?” Legend jeers. It's meant as a tease, but it comes off harsher than he meant.

Typical.

What isn't is the way Twilight just shrugs, his wolf pelts like a wave of black fur. Legend's not blind. He knows his sharp tongue used to burn Twilight's fuse. At some point though, when he wasn't looking, the whole thing had been replaced, longer and shinier than ever before.

And the way Twilight grins at him has the sort of familiarity he thought was only deserved by the likes of Time or Wild.

“You didn't forget where I grew up, didya? What do you think we do with goats exactly?”

The hook's too good not to bite. And, Ravio does say he has sharp teeth. “You'd wash my mouth with soap if I told you the truth.”

And there it is, the tick and twitch of Twilight's ears. Warriors is the only one that constantly manages to bring it out. But, well, Legend aims for greatness, doesn't he?

“Tch, ain't ever seen a Ordonian Goat up close, have you?”

In two strides, Twilight has broken the gap between them.

“For starters, they're tall.” Another step closer. “Grow up about the size of Epona. But less even tempered.”

Legend stares, resisting the urge to back down as he realizes that Twilight towers over him, and at this angle, the setting sun cast his face in shadows.

“Hu-uh.”

“More importantly, they've got _horns_ ,” he says, putting his hands up in some poor imitation of the real thing. “Can knock down a man charging. And they will. Males have a foul temper.”

Then, as if nothing happened, Twilight pulls back and knocks his bow over his shoulder.

“Besides, it's _needless_ hunting that gets my goat.” – Legend snorts despite himself and subsequently hides away from Twilight's grin. – “I could never resist one of the Cub's meat skewers.”

Is it him, or are Twilight's teeth a bit sharper than a Hylian's should be?

“I don't think you can resist _any_ of his cooking,” Legend snarks, smacking Twilight's stomach. “Guess you gotta fuel those muscles of yours with something, huh?”

Said big and strong hero proceeds to pout. “Like you're any better.”

Legend shrugs. “Never refuse a meal you don't think is poisoned, is my motto.”

There's the beginning of a frown, but Legend is not up for that.

“Come on, I'm not letting Pretty Boy outdo us.”

Twilight hesitates, then shakes his head and starts forward. “Do aim for the throats, if you can. I'd rather not deal with the screams.”

The screams.

Legend falters then accelerates to catch up. Screams.

Animals don't... they'll thrash, struggle, make noise, but it wasn't...

The thought lingers well into their travel, when they've passed the turn of the road and shadows burst out of Twilight's necklace.

Wolfie bounds into the undergrowth, his dark tail vanishing behind some leaves.

***

The first prey they come across must be a rabbit.

A shy thing gnawing on leaves in the grass. Crouched low and near invisible in the dale with its brown coat. But Wolfie's senses detected it with ease. With that help, Legend sees it too.

The arrow is held tight in his hand, notched but not quite ready to fly.

Twilight glances back.

Sky would take the hard decision out of his hands and chase off the rabbit.

Twilight waits for him to choose. No matter which, Twilight'll go all the way.

They're both considerate in their own ways.

It makes Legend want to curl up in shame. To be able to at least _pick_ how he wants to treat that secret. But he doesn't know. He spent years not thinking about it, and surprise, that did not prepare him anymore for when it blew up in the open.

Zelda would scream the mother of all 'I told you so' if she ever caught wind of this. Which is why he'll spend a lot of time ensuring he never does.

Which is another way of saying he'll run away from his problem.

Shy, nervous thing.

One cracked twig has the rabbit tense up, then scamper back into its den.

Legend lifts his foot from the twig and glares.

“You good?” Twilight asks as he emerges from shadows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Legend snips. “We had rabbit yesterday. And it's hard to hit the throat of the little buggers.”

Twilight nods sagely like that wasn't pure bullshit. “Fair enough.”

By the Goddesses, Legend must be ill because he suddenly hates the idea of getting away with it. “You know you can call me out, don't you?”

“Don't really see the need to force you to talk. Either you do or you don't. It's not like I know what you should be saying anyway.”

Well, there goes one of his hopes. Twilight looks and acts so comfortable in his skin (both of them) that Legend _is_ a bit jealous.

“Well... what's it like, being a wolf?”

Twilight turns his head to the sun disappearing between the hills. To the darkness seeping into the sky. His gaze looks miles away from him.

“Dangerous.”

Funny, Legend would have said the same of being a rabbit, but, he suspects, for different reasons.

“Wolves aren't loved. And there's a good reason for that. They're powerful beasts with powerful senses. Sometimes, I find myself sniffing for scents I couldn't possibly catch as a Hylian. Thinking of sinking my teeth into something. You wouldn't believe the meat cravings I get sometimes. Farore, the faces my ma made the first few meals we had together after I got back.” A faint chuckle. “It's a good thing Ordon's not just harvesting wheat, 'cause I would be a miserable man in there.”

 _What do you think we do with goats exactly?_ Raise them, protect them.

Eat them.

“Still better than turning into _prey_.”

Twilight's smile is smaller, but it feels more real. “Yeah, maybe, but if you ever reflect what you are on the inside, then you'll be soft, cuddly... loved.”

Legend hears everything his brother doesn't say. What would happen to Twilight if he ever let loose completely? If he gave in to his inner self?

He has a feeling his brother knows. That he felt it already.

For a second, he thinks to place a hand on Twilight's shoulder, but... he can't quite bring himself to do it.

“... Want to get back to it?” Twilight hints at the trails he was following as a wolf. “We still haven't caught anything, and I can hear Wind's accusation from here.”

Yeah, he can too. The sailor would ask him if Twilight was being a sore loser, and the others might believe it. Legend might have done that in Twilight's shoes. He's spiteful like that. Nothing like a bunny.

Twilight clutches his necklace and goes down on four legs again. No hesitation to it.

One of them embraces the shadows, the other flinches at them, and now he wonders if they aren't _both_ stupid.

The animals they come across next are the slow grazers, the desperately hungry or the uncautious. Those that thrive in dusk, right before the nocturnal critters make the fields and woods their own.

They hunt in a silence filled with cacophonous thoughts. It doesn't affect Legend's aim. He could strike an enemy sleepwalking at this point.

And true to his word, Legend did shoot the deer dead in one hit. No struggling. No... screams.

He's about finished butchering most of it and filling his inventory with carefully wrapped pieces when Twilight comes back from his circling watch (monsters are always a concern). Judging by the bit of dark blood on Wolfie's collar, it was a successful scouting trip.

The excuse was often bullshit, but it never meant Twilight was leaving them to dry. It's a comforting thought. He's always taken a big brother role to them the way the Old Man slips between commander and father to a bunch of bokoblins.

“Hyrule talks, you know?” Legend says, softly.

Twilight plops down next to Legend's bags and makes a curious 'bork'.

“He showed me his new collection.” Legend recalls the mile-a-minute explanation, and how warm his successor's happiness had made him feel. “It was like you hung the stars in the sky. Thank you.”

There's a big dog-like grin on Wolfie's face. It's too similar to the one on his Hylian face for anyone with a brain not to link the two together. Twilight's always wearing it when he pulls Wild up, when he gives Wind a piggyback ride (and the sailor calls him a trusty steed with the thickest pirate accent Legend has ever heard). It's his grin for little siblings he's so proud of.

“How do you do it?”

Twilight tilts his head to the side, like he doesn't instantly get the question. (Maybe he doesn't, whispers a small part of Legend, maybe it's natural and it's only _him_ that struggles with connecting to his fellow heroes.)

The words don't want to come, but he's a Chosen of Courage. He never could back down from anything.

“The big brother act,” he says. “Hyrule. I don't know what to do with him. How to be around him. I like him, he's more tolerable than most of you meddling bastards.” – A look of offense crosses the wolf's face, and it's properly ridiculous. – “He's sweet, earnest, resourceful, heck, he even has manners despite growing up in a cave! What does he see in _me_?”

Twilight moves a paw over the middle of Legend's chest.

But he doesn't think that's right. It can't be that.

“I... I don't get _why_ he chose me to admire. Sure, I'm the sucker that went on the most quests, but he's gone on two himself. It can't be my charming personality. I'm a stubborn jackass who doesn't know when to quit and that cuts just as much with my wit as with my arsenal. Is it just... being his predecessor?”

A crossed look passes over Twilight's face. His ears go flat on the sides of his head, his eyes narrowing. It's a little silly, knowing Twilight, but there's also that familiar pang of fear that helps Legend survive so many quests.

His instincts prove their worth when Twilight lunges and knocks him to the ground quick enough that Legend only realizes what happened a second later.

“What the-? Get off, Farmer.”

He could. And Twilight knows he could. Twilight's just relying on the knowledge that Legend _won't._

Legend resigns himself to a moment of lying on his back with a fifty tons wolf crushing him to tiny pieces. That's it, that's the only reason he doesn't whip up his high-level strength bracelets to throw off the overly affectionate wolf on top of him.

Even if he has to fake the annoyance.

“Urgh, you stubborn a-” he doesn't complete the thought.

It's like an electrified chu-chu ramming into him.

By now, every one of them has seen Wolfie wrangle Wild around the camp at least once. Has been witness to their unorthodox brother sighing and huffing about his mentor forcing him into rest. Grumbling something about hard-headed mother cuccos and joykillers.

And the next day, the two of them grinning at each other over the battlefield. Wild seeking approval like he hadn't pulled his tongue at the rancher earlier.

“... That's not the same thing.”

Wolves don't have the right to look this fucking smug.

That manipulative goat-minder!

“It's not!” Legend protests, even knowing that, yes, it is indeed the same thing.

Words unspoken drift between them from the force of Twilight's gaze. Self-deprecating things, faults and flaws and fights, the sort of things Legend cringes at the thought of, but has to acknowledge. Wild admires Twilight, and it's not a matter of perfection.

Being smushed under a wolf has a way of making you accept that, no, that brother of yours isn't _that_ great a person.

“Even so... ”

The rumble is a question.

“That doesn't tell me how to do it.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you mean to tell me I should sit on Hyrule until he feels the love.”

A laughing bark.

Legend smirks to himself. “Yeah, didn't think so.”

And a distant, experienced and – maybe too – cynical part of him starts to understand what Twilight is doing. Why he is not shifting back to Hylian form. Even knowing the truth, knowing that the sacred beast is his dull, dutiful brother does not get through to his subconscious. Knowledge does not weigh as much as the wolf splayed over him, does not warm him the way the mantle of soft fur does. He can't build up his walls fast enough. No, not quite. He can't _bring himself_ to build his walls fast enough.

He missed this. Someone to watch over his shoulder, someone _safe,_ that'd step in so that _Legend_ wouldn't be needed.

He believes in no goddess, be they the Three, whom he knows are the object of his Princess' devotion, or even that Hylia that Sky mentions sometimes. He's long since gotten into the habits of cursing the Heavens, whoever resides there. It was only fair, after they cursed him with the world.

With the Windfish.

But just this once, being protected and smothered in ways that remind him of stormy nights when his uncle was still alive. The sort of stubborn strength that held in the face of the night, of monsters. Everything.

Twilight, Legend realizes, has a mind like a bear trap. Unassuming until it springs. Then, it never lets go.

Stubborn. He hates the part of him that _likes_ it.

“We're not the same,” he hisses.

Because Twilight's friendly, personable, _easy_ to talk to. Because Twilight is one of those bastards that's hard to hate no matter what he does. That wins you back with a couple of words and a steady hand during a difficult time.

Legend would sooner stab you once and be done with those messes.

And Wolfie's blue eyes are this shade of cloudless sky, clear, so frank. It's impossible not to see how Twilight doesn't believe him.

Legend's heart comes ablaze.

“None of _your_ decisions have doomed a world!”

The wolf in Twilight whines. A low, pitiful noise.

“That's how I lost her. By destroying her world and everyone that lived in it.”

Twilight nuzzles him, something a bit desperate to the force of it.

Near misses, he thinks. It worked out. But some part of Twilight probably thinks it shouldn't have. Legend knows that madness. That jump of faith through the insane traps of ancient temples and half-baked schemes in the middle of a boss fight.

Near misses, they don't count, but they're the last steps before the cliff opens up below you.

And Legend has been falling for a long time.

Telling Zelda was a second's respite clinging to an unexpected root pooking out of the earth and rock.

Now he's found another.

He's strangely not bitter that he was the only one to go through this. To triumph in the destruction of a whole island. The closest to experiencing failure on that scale would have to be Wild, who was neither subtle nor all that quiet about his conviction in his perceived flaws.

And this must be what he receives when the feelings overwhelm him, when he _needs_ the wolf instead of any of them. Quiet, unwavering support.

The lack of words coming from Twilight is half the healing balm.

Legend's not looking for words at all. Not some magic words that'll make the turmoil die out at any rates.

He couldn't bear to hear a platitude. To hear any variation of 'it's okay' or 'it was not your fault'. It was. It had been his decision in the end. The choice sucked, but he picked one anyway. Because he _is_ the Hero.

There had been no one else. Just him.

“What's my next decision going to bring?”

The warmth and fur shifts over his body, but still Twilight doesn't talk. With the tighter, smaller posture against his chest, Legend would guess he feels some guilt over forcing that confession out of him. It's worth a grimace, maybe, but he is too tired to give a fuck.

Legend takes a moment just staring upward. He's forgotten which Hyrule this is, how far from home he is. But the stars haven't changed. He'll bet good rupees that the constellations are nothing alike between one kingdom and the next.

He points to a cluster of lights. “That's the 'Fairy Spring'. And right next to it, 'The Raging Lynel'.”

Twilight makes a noise like a noble being shown a peasant. Oh, he must never say that outloud for fear of being punched with those moblin arms of his. Though, he had thought Twilight didn't have lynels in his era, the lucky bastard.

More names come to him. None of which trigger recognition in Twilight, but his brother listens all the same, attentive, patient. This is nice. Better.

His eyelids start threatening to droop.

A gentle, concerned whine ring to his ears, and a paw scratches his tunic.

Right. Right, they are too far from camp for him to nap. It's already a long walk, for a Hylian.

Legend suppresses the pang of envy in his chest at Twilight's cursed form. He shouldn't! But what does it say about him, the boy grown in a world always threatened by dark forces, when his inner self is a harmless bunny? What does it say about Twilight, grown through an era of peace, when his inner self is a dangerous predator?

The successors of the Hero of Time, ladies and gentlemen!

The real shame, though, is probably that he misses that softness.

 _I used to love saving people..._ he thinks, and only notices the tear when Wolfie nuzzles him.

He knows there and then that their earlier conversation was wrong. Even if Twilight lost himself in the shadows, there'd still be something to love about him. Because Wolfie _is_ a beast, but the others aren't wrong when they call him a gift of the Goddesses.

“Urgh, don't try and be physically affectionate with me,” he says, pushing off the cold nose.

_What about me? Is there anything loveable about me, besides saving a couple of countries?_

_Would Uncle still be proud? Would_ she _be able to love me as I am now?_

“Why am I like this?” he asks, and is grateful for the silence.

The answer, he's known for some time.

 _It's when I realized no one would save_ me _. When it comes to saving the world, I'm it. No second chances. No one to pick up the torch. If I fail, that's it. There's only me._

Wolfie's soft barks bring him out of his head, and pull a smirk out of him. He deliberately ruffles his brother's head, rough, because it wouldn't do to have him think he's gone soft that easily.

But his fear just isn't true anymore.

Twilight would save him. Hyrule would. Sky would. Any of the others would. And he'd jump in front of a sword for them just as easily.

He hasn't let down the walls long enough to

… Maybe he could try.

Leaves suddenly rustle and bushes part to let another Hylian through.

“Legend?” Hyrule's eyes flicker to the tear tracks on his face. “... This isn't the direction we saw that river, is it?”

Legend sighs and pushes Twilight off. “You're off by thirty degrees.”

Red blooms across Hyrule's cheeks, his gaze lowering to the ground.

Damn it! He isn't prepared for this! If he had just a minute to gather his wits beforehand...

“Why didn't you tell me he was coming?!” Legend hisses, resisting the urge to smack Twilight on the nose.

He prefers his fingers unnipped, thank you very much.

“Are you okay?” Hyrule asks, fidgeting. “Weren't you with Twilight?”

“Oh, huh, he went scouting ahead.” Farore! Now the rancher's stupid excuses were infecting him. Why was he the one to share that secret?

Hyrule nods. “Ah, makes sense.”

Some crows above caw.

It's the only noise in the woods.

Legend stumbles when Twilight headbutts his rear end. “Oi!” he says, turning a threatening glare at his idiot brother.

“Oh, hey Wolfie,” Hyrule says with a timid wave.

Right. Hyrule's most frequent experiences with Twilight's beast forms revolve around him being herded back to camp after another ill-fated self-appointed scouting mission. Worse when the Champion got involved and the two got into their heads to have an adventure whilst on a supply run.

Got to have fun...

He glances between Hyrule, trying to look steady in front of him, and Twilight, who is staring back at him intently.

“You don't need to be so nervous, you know?” he hears himself say.

Hyrule blinks in surprise, as does Twilight. But, well, Legend committed. He might as well go all in.

He lands a hand in the scruff of Twilight's neck, scratching through the fur. “He's a big softie.”

That would normally get him a warning growl or a painless bite. Except Twilight can't very well protest and undo all his hard work over petty jealousy, can he?

“Come on,” he tells Hyrule. “If he gets snippy, I'll bonk him on the head whilst you make your daring escape.”

“I wouldn't run!” Hyrule says, hotly. “I mean, I don't know if Life works on wolves, but I'd have to try, knowing your strength bracelets.”

It startles a laugh out of him. There's their wanderer. Ready to get in the thick of it with a sword or a spell. That's the man that'll succeed him. That's the man he has the luck to _meet._ And teach.

“Interesting question. It sounds like something we should test in a safe environment.”

And he jumps to the side, avoiding the fangs aiming for his buttocks. So predictable!

“Oh dear, he's gone feral!” he croons, clicking his heels to activate the pegasus boots. “No two ways about it, time to book it.”

“Wait, what?” Hyrule, the poor man, has no time to register the turn of events that Legend grabs him by the sleeves and starts to drag him away from a barking wolf.

“By the way, have I told you about that time I escaped from a pair of lynels on top of Death Mountain?”

“No!” Hyrule shouts, wide-eyed with both awe and a little fear. “Is that really the time?”

He skids to a halt just in time to avoid a blitzing Twilight bursting out of a bush. The barking rings to his ears. His heartbeat has picked up from the thrill, and he _knows_ he will win this.

“Feels nostalgic for some reason!”

“Talk away then! Oh, and **jump**!”

Hyrule's hand pulls him upward, makes him weightless as if he'd done his magic cape. They launch into the air, and scramble up on the higher branches of a large oak tree. He's chuckling, a little awed by Hyrule's arsenal of spells.

And then Twilight lands on the branch next to them, hackles raised and honestly a little scary. The wood winces ominously, shakes, but holds.

“Wolves can't do that!” he yells.

“I don't think he cares, Legend!” Hyrule hops to the next tree.

And Legend stops thinking about his next move. He follows, he lets his instinct and experience guide him into this impromptu chase game. Marvels at Hyrule's tricks sometimes, preens when _his_ gets Twilight to crash into a boar that only mildly appreciated the tackle and gets to tell the entire story on the way back to camp.

He's got a skip to his steps. He won. They both know he won this time and nothing will change that.

But, just in case, Legend will sleep with one eye open. He's seen Time's and Wild's pranks so far. And in that chain of Heroes, Twilight is both the apprentice and the master. There's no way Twilight isn't capable of their very worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legend: I may be having an existential crisis due to accidentally hitting one of my repressed experiences.  
> Twilight: I will agressively smother you until you are more comfortable in your skin. 
> 
> Oh, and on another note:  
> Twilight: Eh, I don't really like magic.  
> Also Twilight: I can push giant metal crates over smooth frictionless ice with no problem. I can swing around extremely heavy ball and chain with no help. *I can jump ten times my height and length as a wolf just by looking at an imp. But none of that is magic. *  
> Also also Twilight: I can teleport when following this insane gremlin in this ruined Hyrule. Still don't like magic,


	7. Send your prayers to the Sky

With a vast array of different quests and experiences, it was no surprise that between the nine of them, the Links could cover most essential skills. For example, if you needed a tactician, look no further than Warriors. If you had to solve some puzzles, Legend had seen them all. If you got stuck out at sea (a very unfortunate experience for Twilight, who discovered that day his lack of sea legs), Wind would be happy to talk your ears off about sailing. 

But if one needs a partner for a one-on-one fight, then Sky is the hero you'll need. 

For proof, look no further than the deformed lizard and giant eye corpses they've left behind them. After the third such ambush in a day, one might decide to change their tactics. Those monsters, untouched by whatever corruption is plaguing their current quests, don't. They simply come in waves and waves, as unthinking as they are exhausting. 

Twilight, wiping his brows, hears a faint chime, though he can't identify its origins. 

Sky's face changes. From relieved to worried, brows drawn together and his eyes scanning the horizon for one sign or another. 

“What is it?”

“Fi, the spirit of the Master Sword... she advised us to find shelter for the night. She says there are high probabilities that monsters lurk nearby.”

_ No shit _ , Twilight thinks. Ever since the portal spat them out away from the rest of the group, the two of them have been fighting constantly to make any sort of progress. He regrets not having told Sky his secret earlier. They might have gotten a better deal if Wolfie had detected the attacks early or led them back to the others. 

“Can she tell where the portals threw our companions?”

Again, the chime rings, and the Master Sword almost seems to pulse in sync with it. 

“She senses the existence of a few other sacred weapons, but they're too far away for her to tell me more.”

Twilight glares at the red sun lowering itself over the hills. “We'll try and find them tomorrow then. No time to lose. I think I saw some house westward before the ambush.”

***

It wasn't a town. 

Broken houses lay here and there across some rock hard dirt road. Shutters hang limply from open windows. Tombstones litter one corner of the hidden vale, most broken or too weathered by elements for the epitaphs to remain. There are hints of small gardens behind collapsed walls of stone. Upturned soil in little rows. Both of them know the traces left by harvesting. 

It's no town anymore. There's not a soul left. 

The sign, somehow, had survived whatever cataclysm had struck here. For all the good it did. Sky can't read it, and Twilight... it looks _vaguely_ familiar, he said. Not enough to hazard a guess about it. 

Sky resolves to ask Hyrule about it. He's aware it's probably a futile and maybe even cruel thing to do, but... he has to. He isn't certain yet, why the idea weighs so much on his mind. A nameless town, a place that should have been home to dozens, maybe hundreds of Hylians, gone and forgotten. 

His mind turns back to the first time he mentioned Skyloft to the other heroes. The way his heart squeezed when he realized that none of them had ever heard of it, that the closest he ever got to news of his hometown was a nomadic tribe of sky people from Four and, after an apologetic grimace from Twilight, a ruined city in the sky.

For so long, Sky had lived with the notion of Skyloft being the only town in the world. The essence of the world of Hylians, distilled and preserved by the kindness of Hylia. His adventures on the surface had stripped him of the notion, but not the tenderness and longing he felt for his home above the clouds. How could he, when half his soul is bonded to a sacred bird? 

Hyrule should not be a kingdom of ghost towns and miles spread graveyards. That sight alone had brought tears to his eyes. Nothing had ever made him doubt his and Zelda's dream of founding Hyrule together before that. 

“Sky!” rings Twilight's cry, and he wastes no time, spinning with Fi in hand. 

He slices the air in a flawless, textbook motion, and the strange red keese fell in two distinct halves before disintegrating. 

Twilight rushes to him, placing a grounding palm on top of his shoulder. “You okay, Sky? That thing was diving straight at you.”

He fights the growing weight of the Master Sword in his grip. The out-of-body feeling. His chest pangs with pulses of heat, with a loathing turned inward. He shouldn't be a burden this way. Not on top of everything else. 

But he can't find the words in front of Twilight's earnest worry. “I, sorry, I guess I was too out of it. Thanks for the warning.”

He gets a pat on the back, strong enough to be a bit startling. “Don't give me a fright like that. Leave it to the Champion.” 

Sky chuckles softly. “I'm not usurping his role, I promise. I can't take this much roughhousing.”

The smirk on Twilight's face looks terribly smug. He gives Sky another pat, then marches on through the deserted street. “We'll need to be rested for tomorrow. Best we wake up at first light to get as much time as possible to link up with the others.”

Sky nods, even though the idea of closing his eyes makes him nauseous. 

_ You dreamed of a new kingdom, Zelda. I'm sorry I ruined it before we even started.  _

***

_ The dog's barking chased him through the ruins. The others are gone. He can't remember- no, he doesn't want to remember. It's too painful.  _

“ _Lucky you,” Legend's voice rings behind the crumbled remains of some statue. There's no one there. “Must be nice to have a choice.”_

“ _That wasn't-” he tries to say, but the barking swallows his words. They are close. So close._

_ For all his Courage, he knows he stands no chance. He can't even lift his sword. Fi looked at him and, coldly, without ever speaking louder than a dull monotone, told him he was no longer fit to wield her. There was a zero percent chance he would ever prove his worthiness again.  _

_ He has to step over the bodies. So young. Too young. One's missing an eye, an accusation forever etched into the blank gaze. His apologies are sobbed. He knows. He  _ knows _. They tell him to stay. To die. To atone._

_ But somehow, he stumbles forward up the steps to the Temple of Time. He knows that the place is safe. That it must be. It's the only thing that keeps him going.  _

_ The doors slam right behind him. And he breathes out a sigh of relief, walking into the moonlit shadow of Hylia's statue. Despite everything, the pain, the grief, the despair, he musters a smile for the benevolent face looking over him. “Thank you, Hylia.” _

“ _Hylia? Who's that?” Wind asked, scouting closer. “Some woman you know?”_

“ _The Goddess Hylia? Protector of Hyrule and the Triforce?”_

_ The doors rattle. Again. The barking is muffled.  _

“ _Never heard of her,” Wind said. “All that's left of Hyrule lies beneath the Great Sea. Why didn't you stab Demise in the head? That's what I did. They can't **speak** with a sword in their brain, you stupid scallywag.” _

_ Sky reached out, but his little brother was suddenly too far, miles away, and he couldn't run fast enough to catch up. He never could. Always one step behind. Always too slow for when it matters. Even when it came to killing his enemy. He doesn't save, he just deals with the clean-up.  _

_ Or leaves it to his descendants and reincarnations.  _

_ The doors are threatening to come off their hinges. At every hit, he sees the gap between them widen a little more. He sees glimpses of fangs. Of blue eyes staring. Of drool splattering when dark muzzles try to push through.  _

“ _I had so many hopes for you._ ”

He bolts upright, a strangled scream on his lips, Fi raised to strike. 

For a moment, Sky doesn't move. His mind is slow to catch up. It notices the darkness first. The faint flicker of the near dead fire they lit up earlier. The soft, weakened planks under him. 

There is no temple. No goddess. No-, wait, there _is_ a wolf. 

Sky blinks a few times, hands rubbing at his eyes. Right. The ghost town. Him and Twilight. He... where is his brother? 

“Why are you...?” Sky starts, before letting out a sigh. Does that truly matter? “Say, Wolfie, how do you keep finding us?”

The wolf grunts, his ears folded back on top of his head. He proceeds to take a step backward. 

Sky's sigh is gentle, soft. The same way he ran his fingers through the fur on Wolfie's head, behind his ears. He doesn't want to spook his friend. 

“I know you can't exactly tell me the answer to that,” Sky says, his smile idle as his gaze goes back to the shutters. “It's okay if I make up a way, isn't it? I won't tell the others even if I get it right.” 

Wistful. That's the emotion inside him. He needs to feel it, he believes. After that nightmare. After... not the memory, but something close to it. What he knows might happen. 

His fellow heroes have all suffered so many hardships. He wouldn't blame them if they turned their anger at him. (He'd deserved it.)

A quick lick of a rough tongue brings Sky back to the present, and he forces himself to focus. 

“You're no ordinary animal. That mark on your forehead, those soulful blue eyes...” Familiar. A reflection of what he's seen in the others. Heroic. “Hylia sent you.”

The grumble isn't loud enough to be threatening. It's actually more in line with the noise Legend makes in the morning or when Warriors is rejected in a tavern. 

“A sacred beast to guide us heroes on our journey.”

The screams of his nightmare ring back through his memories. The accusations. The hate on the face of his brothers. 

His smile starts to slide off. 

“An envoy, to help lessen the aftermaths of my mistake... maybe...” he chokes out. 

The sacred beast – he knows in his heart – lets out a quiet whine, and buries his muzzle against Sky's shoulder. Sky's arms latch onto Wolfie's fur as if it were a loftwing's reins. He _is_ in freefall. 

“Wolfie... I know I'm supposed to be a Hero of Courage, but... how do I tell them?” The corner of his eyes burn. Wolfie's face blurs, then clears when Sky blinks. “They've all overcome such odds, so many trials, and they... they wouldn't have had to, if I hadn't failed.”

The way he expects Wolfie to react ranges from a betrayed yip, to a silent embrace to even a sudden mauling. 

A flat look wasn't one of them. It oozes skepticism and Sky's emotional outburst sputters like he had been making a stormcloud out of a nimbus. Do... do wolves really _do_ that? That wasn't what he had in mind talking about how this wolf friend is special. 

“I... ”

“Woof?” Wolfie woofs, annoyed. 

“On my journey, I faced off against Demise, the demon god. A cruel being imprisoned for millennia before his subordinates managed to free him. I... I fought him. I dove through a portal and brandished the Master Sword and _killed him_. But... with his dying words, he cursed me. Us. The ones with the Hero's Spirit and the blood of the Goddess. There would always be an incarnation of his hatred to destroy everything they sought to build.” – The growl is steadily growing in intensity. – “I should have stopped him. It's me. My fault, Wolfie.”

That's when the shutters on the window rattle. 

Sky is on his feet, sword drawn, even faster than Wolfie is. That, he later realized, is the problem. Fi might have brushed against his friend's fur. Not with the edge, never, but he had not thought the flat of the blade might have been a cause of concern. A blessed weapon wouldn't harm a sacred beast, right? 

Shadows swallow Wolfie, who lets out a startled yelp, before out of the cocoon of darkness emerges a scowling Hylian.

“Twilight?!” he gasps, a whisper-shout that feels like his chest would explode. Twilight is Wolfie. Oh, Hylia, Twilight is _Wolfie_. He... he told... 

This can't be real. His head spins. Oh Hylia. He needs to brace himself. To stand. (To run.)

The shutters swing open. 

“Goshess darn it,” Twilight spits. 

He makes a grab for something under his armor – what, Sky couldn't see – and the shadows return, swiftly giving his brother the form of the companion beast that they assumed was stalking their progress throughout the eras. 

Wolfie (Twilight) barks at the open window, and the darkness of the night. The flutter of a moonless breeze. 

Sky, despite the past few months having just turned on their heads, is alert enough to keep his focus on the threat at hands. What probably helped destroy the town. Those lost Hylians deserve some vengeance. It's too little, but he has to give them that. 

There is _nothing_ there. 

But Twilight lunges, his fangs glinting in the hearth's light before he latches on _something._ Sky can only watch in horror as Wolfie-Twilight-brother hangs and scrambles against an invisible enemy, snarling, scratching, biting. He hears the inhuman shriek right as Twilight drops back on the ground, blood splattered over his fur and a fading purple light in his mouth.

Sky waits in tense silence, knuckles tight over the handles of his sword and shield. Beads of sweat roll on his cheeks, his heart hammering. 

He doesn't react when Twilight stops and sniffs the air. Doesn't, when the change happens.

Twilight, ever practical, crosses the meager main room in a few strides and forces the shutter shut. Then lift a broken table leg and use it to ram the whole thing locked, or as good as it got in these circumstances. 

When he is done, Twilight does not turn back right away. He lingers about the window, his shoulders tense and the wolf pelt (how had they not made the connection?) ripples in the low light when he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“I shifted the first time because I thought I'd heard something, and my senses are much sharper as a wolf. I... I didn't mean...”

_ To trick you,  _ Sky completes the thought. And it's unfair, cruel, but – despite his failure – he still thinks it (like he has the right to). 

“You heard. About how I cursed the lineage.”

“I heard that you killed a demon god for what he threatened to do to your world, to your Zelda.”

“Twilight... I'm sorry,” Sky pleads, his throat hoarse. “I'm sorry! I know it'll never weigh enough for what my failure did to you and the others, but I'm so, so sorry, Twilight. If I hadn't... if I had just... Demise would have never had the chance to curse Hyrule.”

“And yet, _with_ that 'chance', he went about it in the worst possible way. I know he predates the Triforce an' all, but that guy sure was no champion of Nayru.”

Sky's self-loathing melts into a slosh of confusion. “I... I don't...”

Twilight, strangely, is not winding up a punch or a kick or even a swipe of his sword. He's walking up to him. Sliding next to him, and, with an arm around his shoulder, getting them both sitting by the hearth. 

“Think about it,” Twilight replies with a small smirk. “Coulda forced his reincarnation at any point he wanted, but he went 'fuck it' and made sure that there would _always_ be a Champion of Courage and a Princess of Goddess' Blood around at the same time it showed up.”

Sky... considers. Tries to recall the wording. The exact thing, but he's forgotten half the words. He's spent one too many nights trying not to remember for his memories to cooperate now. He just knows what he felt then, the doubt and horror at war within. How many people might suffer if the curse was real? Had he truly earned his title, his love back, if it had come at the cost of the future? 

And if he only knew of Hyrule's broken kingdom, the answer would be easy then. 

“What was he like? That Demise guy? Did he give you the speech?”

Sky huffs. “Does trash talking count?”

Twilight's eyebrow game is quite on point there, wagging so fluidly. “Does it ever?”

“He thought me unworthy. Destined to die in a realm of water and storm. He promised the destruction of everything I hold dear, once my corpse lied at his feet.”

“Big talker,” Twilight deadpans. “No wonder he got so pissy about his defeat. Must have been humiliating.”

To his amazement, Sky bites down on a laugh. Demise had been _imprisoned_ before, hadn't he? Who had done the deed the first time around? And if he was such a threat, would they not intervene again if he went too far? 

“If it were me... well, not that I'm the revenge-type or anything,” Twilight adds suspiciously quickly, “I'd wait till they were both long gone and just destroy everything they ever built. Render their whole lives pointless. But that's his type, isn't it? Doesn't count if the victim isn't there to see it.”

“Alright. Demise would never be Nayru's favorite, I'll grant you that,” he says, sobering. “It's just... It hurts to hear Time and Legend insult Hylia. She's not...”

_ Not the one that deserves their blame.  _

Twilight runs a hand through his hair. “Can't speak for 'em. Much as I'd like to pretend, it ain't my mind and I ain't them as sure as they ain't me. The questing took its toll on their hearts and souls. I don't even want to imagine what Hyrule and Wild's doubts are like.”

Sky knows, though. He's heard Hyrule asking Legend once. He doesn't even understand what faith is meant to be. And, he thinks, gaze to the broken village outside, not without reason. What have the goddesses done for this kingdom that worshipped them? 

“But I ain't about all that chosen talk... Chosen.”

Sky snorts. That was so terrible Time would be proud. The old man, somehow, relishes in their agony. The stupider the joke, the better, he said. 

“I told you guys it was too pretentious for me.”

Twilight looks back to the flames. “It's too bad for the City Boy that he hasn't gotten that title. Would have flaunted it, the bastard.”

The image is amusing, until it's not.

“Do you think... do you wish it would have been him instead of me? Do you think Warriors could have done it right?”

Twilight stills. Sky sees him clench and unclench his fists a few times, then let out a long exhale. There's a hint of weariness in his gaze. Hard and walled in stone. 

“You think your goddess could put up with Fancy's hair flips? He'd turn her mad after just one of his rants about the standards of beauties of men.”

There's no hesitation. None whatsoever. “Yes. She would. She loves every incarnation of the Hero. Every single one of them. With all her heart.”

Twilight's lips twitch. It could be amusement. Or bitterness. 

“Funny thing from a woman I've never met. Ain't ever heard of the gal till... well, Wild. I was grown on the worship of the Golden Trio, personally. Already chosen by Farore before I was found in Ordon. Can't imagine what made her think a two years old was especially brave when lost in the woods, but what I remember of it is just me crying and wondering about and getting stung by mosquitoes the size of my hands.”

Sky's silly bleeding heart cries for the image of a young Twilight, just a toddler with tear tracks on his face, stumbling out of a forest. Burns, then, when his brain reminds him of all the monsters that take residence in the woods of most eras of Hyrule. Stops when he recalls the other important detail: Twilight never found out who his parents were. Not their names, not what they did, not why he had been wandering alone. 

Sky grabs his brother's hand and locks gaze with him. “I think you were brave then. Farore knew it too.”

Twilight's face flushes red. “If... if you say so. But, that wasn't my... Urgh. Back home, I prayed to the Golden Trio because that's what Rusl and Uli did. I thanked Farore for wind on a hot day, Nayru for rain that irrigated the fields and Din for the fire in the hearth during winter. It wasn't much more than that.”

“We... we celebrate Hylia on Skyloft. She is the one that lifted the land in the sky to protect us from an unending war with demons. We have festivals in her name. Coming of Age happens before her most well-known statue. There's not a person in Skyloft that doesn't believe. All my life, I was told to show her gratitude. And I did, even in the pits of that damned temple, with shambling corpses trying to drag me under. Even when things looked lost, I still... I still had faith. I felt her love with me the whole way.” 

He pauses, letting out a shuddering breath. 

“Did you have that?” he asks in a whisper so quiet he couldn't tell if he was even heard. 

Twilight, not helping matters, only glances around the broken furniture, the spilled wardrobe and the rags inside. “I had someone else talking over my shoulder,” Twilight says with a wicked grin. “I wouldn't have called her a goddess though. The impact on her ego that would have had, oh man. The Chosen Hero stuff though? Honestly, I forgot all about that until Princess Zelda mentioned it. Destiny didn't mean much to me then. I didn't even _hear_ of Ganondorf until I was like, past the midway point.”

“He's the curse,” Sky confesses, hanging his head in shame. “He's the one that incarnates Demise's Hatred. You can't tell me that he never affected you. I saw your face the first time I said I never met the man.”

“Oh, yes, him I _hate_. Nearly killed everyone I loved. Doesn't mean I hate _you_ though.”

“But-!”

“My Ganondorf is the same one the old man stopped. The same person.”

Sky's jaw drops. The _same_ Ganondorf? Not a reincarnation? 

He thought... he thought Twilight and Time had lived in different _eras_. Their bond has always seemed a little special. Older on Twilight's part as well. Like he had known Time before Time could become aware of him. It only made sense if one was the other's successor, but now he ponders. Are they... are they father and son? Had Twilight taken up his sword to finish what Time had been too old to do? He knew Demise's Hatred wasn't truly a man, but he had had the failings of one. 

“H-how?”

“The ghosts of sages past pretty much confirmed it. Before my time, Ganondorf was accused of plotting a coup and trying to steal the Triforce from the kingdom of Hyrule. He was eventually arrested and scheduled for execution in the newly built Arbiter's Grounds.”

The name, for a reason he doesn't understand, sends a shiver down his spine. 

An odd light glints in Twilight's eyes as he rests his sword over his knees. “But right as they thrust the sword in his chest, Din gave him the Triforce of Power.”

_ What the fuck _ , Sky thinks, and he'd chastised himself over such a blasphemous thought, but he can't muster the brainpower to do it. Din. Din of the Golden Trio. One of the Three. Why? 

“What the fuck, right?” Twilight smirks, very much aware of Sky's bafflement. “The sages couldn't explain it either. They said... it must have been a divine _prank_.”

Something searing hot curls into Sky's chest, ugly and dark. His eyes fall on Twilight's form again. On his brother's scars, both on and under his skin. The self-deprecating smirk, growing sad as memories of his adventures must be surfacing. The horrors he saw. The battles he fought. The one he lost. Everything. 

A. **Prank**.

Clarity is _burnt_ into him. He knows, in the moment, what Time and Legend feel. Right down to his bone marrow, bitterness fills his thoughts and heart. 

Demise. Demise, he can grasp. He can understand the shape of him and his evils. The motives, lacking as they are, feel so much _smaller_ with that perspective. Petty, based on passion and emotions. Almost like a Hylian. But this? Is betrayal. The Goddesses he was taught were the benevolent makers of the world. The bastion upon which the world rests. Why then, Sky wonders. Why would Din indulge the incarnation of Demise's hatred just as the sages put him down without a struggle? 

Why empower evil right as good triumphs?

Do they truly know anything about the gods? 

“I don't get it,” Sky says, the only thing he can think to say at all. 

Twilight's arm hooks around his neck. 

“I don't understand either, and I've decided not to care. Din condemned us, Nayru granted us respite through my queen and Farore...” He looks down to the back of his left hand, where, under the gauntlet, Sky knows the Triforce of Courage lays. “Farore marked me from birth for salvation. I don't know how they work. It sounds almost like a balancing act. Did they each choose separately? Together? And if they didn't, was Din the first one to act or just the one that made the biggest impact? Maybe it was a prank. A big great game between three sisters having fun with their toys.”

The corners of Twilight's mouth lift up an inch, and Sky has the fearful impression that Twilight knows exactly the impact of his words. 

“The worst pain I've ever endured... was inflicted on me by Farore, by the way.”

“Twilight! You, what are you even... the fuck?!” 

Twilight's hand lands a solid clap on his back, and his snicker is boisterous. “The first time I turned into a wolf, that was due to this.” He rubs the Triforce of Courage on the back of his hand. “But that first change? Like my body had been left to dry during the hot season just in time for a wildfire. I swear to the Goddesses... nothing could ever compare. And that helped, in the face of monsters I'd never seen before.” And Twilight looks up to the ceiling, half caving from rot, and his eyes spark. His voice thrums with an unusual intensity. “No threat of pain ever made me pause. I never missed a beat from fear. I knew, on some deep level, that the worst would always be behind me, and I'd made the source of it my own tool for battle. I'd overcome Farore's test, in some way.”

Sky realizes he is holding in his breath a moment later. That his brother's words cast a spell of silence on this small dilapidated home. There's something empowering to the idea.  


He remembers his own adventure a bit differently. He'd found Courage on a path more traveled, he feels. “I didn't have time to be afraid. I was chasing a demon lord after my Zelda. I knew I couldn't be scared of the monsters, because I had to face their master to free the love of my life. So I refused to be.”

And, it's some strange irony that he suddenly sees salvation within reach. 

“For the record, Hyrule _likes_ his country,” Twilight muses, like he's sorting through his memories. 

Sky feels the burn of shame on his face. He doesn't mean it like an insult! “It wasn't...”

“No, sorry, let me rephrase that. He loves this place. He sees everything wrong with it, and he loves it anyway. He's working on improving it. He'll take the grueling tasks, the down and dirty, and he's gonna keep improving it until the rest of the country sees it the way he does. I say, it's a brave man that walks through broken ruins and still fights for the one wild flower he finds blooming there.”

“Please tell me you told him that,” Sky begs. Because he knows Twilight is Time's protege and Time is a man of few words. It works for them, but Hylia, he hopes... 

“Why? It's pretty obvious, isn't it?”

Sky groans. 

“Just... tell him, alright.”

Twilight looks a little bemused, but shrugs. “Sure, first thing when we see him tomorrow.”

That's a tempting thought, actually. Just getting it over with. To throw it at them, but that's another form of cowardice. To unload such a weight on people he loves without giving them a proper chance to prepare. He had to do this _right_. He owed them at least that explanation. If the constant heartaches had a purpose... maybe they'd be easier to bear. 

_ 'Why couldn't you just do it  _ right  _the first time around?'_ echoes the voices from his nightmare. 

Twilight's hand grabs his and squeezes. Concerned. “We can't force them to be reasonable right away, but we can knock their heads on straight.”

Twilight would. Somehow, despite the admiration for Time that Twilight never bothered to hide, Sky is certain that he would indeed slap him upside the head if the situation calls for it. And protecting one of them would definitely be one of those circumstances. 

“They can be mad,” he says. “With what Ganondorf wrecked, they-”

“In Wind's time, the Goddesses saw Hyrule burn and doused it with an ocean. Do you think it's better than this era?”

Ravaged by fire. Swallowed by water. One, the act of a demon. The other, that of three goddesses. 

He can't tell the difference. _He can't tell the difference!_

Hylia, Sky's head is spinning. Instinct latches on memories well-loved. Hylia cared. Hylia was one of the lesser divinities. One to guard the Triforce, not grant it. She, who loved the Hero so much, stepped into the world of mortals to forever be with him and help him protect the creation of the Three. 

“Sky, I swear I don't resent Time over Ganondorf surviving his era. I don't resent the Twili for not stopping Zant before he could usurp the Twilight Realm. Not the guards that failed to prevent the invasion, not the Light Spirits that couldn't protect the very provinces they were meant to guard. Sky, hate is so hard to live with, I don't want to waste my heart raging about people that never deserved it. And maybe we're all different people, but we share the Hero's Spirit and I know that false blame has no place in it.”

The fire in the hearth sputters and embers are sent flying a few feet. They burn out entirely in midair, and with a sigh, Twilight rises to tear off another leg from an old chair and feed it to the flames. It's a simple, domestic gesture, not unlike the sort of things Sky remembers from Gaepora at the academy, when it was just him and Zelda, just children huddling together under a blanket. 

The headmaster would tease them, and Zelda would laugh, unimpressed. She'd claim that it was only right, because she had decided they would be married, and not even Hylia could disapprove. 

Even now, he blushes at the memory, his heart light in his chest. 

Another log is stirred lazily through the hearth. He can see the headmaster's shadow over Twilight's. 

Until he notices that Twilight's lips are moving silently. The words, Sky's unsure, but there's a faint impression of _practiced_ in his brother's body language. Rehearsed. And, he can't quite stop himself from asking. 

“... Who are you praying to?”

“Din.”

“Din? You're praying to Din?! Even after all that?!”

Twilight gives him one of those 'I'm-a-simple-man' shrug and Sky has the most troubling, greatest revelations of them all. Twilight is fucking with him. 

“The fire's still there, isn't it?”

They might lose a finger to frostbite through the night without the fire. They need it. And there the pieces fit together. The picture of who Twilight is, and the value of being an earnest man. They need the fire, and the flames are there, and that's enough. The Goddesses might drown the world tomorrow, but tonight they allowed the flames to burn, through passion, through logic, through love. 

Sky lifts a finger to the clasp that holds Zelda's sail around his neck. Then, deliberately, pulls the cloak of his shoulders to wrap them around both their shoulders. 

Twilight blinks in surprise for but a moment, then grins back and shares his own wolf pelt. “Who needs gods, huh?” 

_Yes_ , Sky thinks. _The fire is still here, but the warmth is all_ you _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I have *opinions* about this fandom conflating all the Links into Hylia believers and I do not like it. Hylia is a very recent addition to the Zelda lore, and I hate that everyone acts like she's always been there. It's not even needed! There are thousands of years of hystory to go through. The worship of ONE goddess dying out and coming back (with Wild) shouldn't be such an impossibility. And the others meeting Sky and Wild shouldn't be enough to turn all their beliefs on their heads to include Hylia right away and make her the scapegoat for all the issues. Seriously, look at what the Triforce trio did before Hylia's inclusion. Don't they make more interesting figures to wax philosophy about??
> 
> OR.
> 
> Sky: *dealing with Hero Complex and impossible standards*  
> Twilight: *fresh out of a conversation with everyone else* You too? *pulls up sleeves, cracks his knuckles* You're on, skyboy.
> 
> Sky: *angst about Demise*  
> Twilight: He was a dumb shit.
> 
> Sky: *having a theological crisis*  
> Twilight: How about I fix that by making it even worse?


	8. Accept your Wild side

The moon is high up in the sky, and Wild somehow does not fear it turning blood red. That was one of the things that left him wrongfooted before. There are many things he didn't know about the past. But this is one he is glad for. He doesn't want to imagine monsters coming back to life here.

The ranch, at night, is peaceful. So peaceful. Earlier, Malon's singing lulled the animals to sleep, and probably half the group, but it only made his stomach twist. She had laughed and wished them good night, her hand lingering on her husband's shoulder. Time never looked so happy, so relaxed as he did around his wife, well at home. He might have fled the second the others had fallen asleep.

Lying on the rooftop of the barn, Wild's chest ache with guilt.

One more thing to the list. One more thing Hylia wants him to remember.

He's trying, but can't find the words. Can barely make the effort to try. What will he tell Time? How will he... how can he apologize for something like this?

The tearing, rushing sound of shadow magic makes his heart leap for joy. It's the sound that told Wild the amnesiac that he didn't have to travel alone. That there'd be someone to watch over him, in the dark, in the storm, in the cold.

It's one of those sounds that speaks of home like Sidon's boastful greetings, the sing-song of little ritos or the taste of cold melon in desert shade.

Twilight materializes on the edge of the rooftop, furry and all, and Wild struggles to control his breathing for a second longer. He feels the tears close, and he knows Twilight notices them all too well with his wolf senses. Somedays, the shift is instantaneous, a steady hand on his back, a desire to lean back against a solid chest and furred shoulders.

Somedays, it's a beast that settles over his lap, and Wild takes the added weight on his legs like he's been given a second chance. He sighs, hangs his head, and, hands through fur, whispers 'thank you' as he lets the comfort of his brother's presence sink in. There's no need for other words. He runs them through his mind, and they weaken when he gives in and lets go of his tears.

'Thank you,' he tells Hylia for the hundredth time. For giving him that much longer with Twilight.

(He'd been prepared. He had known and Wolfie hadn't hidden it, as well as a wolf could tell him. That time he'd seen the black particles fly skyward, he'd known that was it, his friend was back to the realm of the goddesses.)

(He'd faced Ganon without fear, without faltering, and he'd rescued Zelda after a hundred years of fighting, and he had finally let the shame untie itself around his heart.)

(But he hadn't realized how much it would _hurt_ to walk a lonely road, to see wild wolves that were a blue-ish gray instead of green-hued. To hear barking and never see his friend again.)

(Wild had been told his past self had lost everyone. Wolfie was the first one he did as himself.)

He's dried out the tracks on his face when the shadows shift, and the weight disappears.

“Need to talk about it?” is Twilight's opening move.

Wild thinks about it. “Probably.”

“Do you _want_ to?”

The idea makes his mouth taste of ash.

“Later.”

Twilight doesn't say anything to that, and instead brushes the roof before sitting down and lying on his back. “Recognize any stars?”

Wild chuckles. “Still haven't found the Goatherd up there. Face it, it's a fictional one.”

“All constellations are made up, cub,” Twi replies with a cocky grin.

Wild wags his finger. “No, no, see, if they're in a book somewhere, it's official. It's science! Zelda told me so.”

Twilight rolls his eyes then leans back against the tiles of the roof. “Suuuure it is. Man, if only we had _books_ in Ordon. Silly us.”

The warmth in his chest turns into gentle chuckles, and it's easy to lie back down, just close enough to brush his big brother's side.

He waits it out. It's hard enough to vocalize that he prefers not to take the initiative. It's a few more minutes of calm before Twi picks up on the hint.

“What is it about?”

“The usual.”

Fear. Failure. Disappointment. Guilt. The look in a stranger's eyes, the judgement and demands. That shrinking feeling that makes the air around him want to crush him paper thin. It's the usual. But this time, he can't help how the fear is strong, how the guilt strangles him. It's no wandering stranger, no fragment of his past berating him for things that happened in the great blank that was Link Before.

It's Time. The Old Man. Their Leader.

Twilight hums.

“Have I ever told you about the first time I met a Hylian soldier?”

No. For all they talk and are at ease, unless Wild asks, Twilight doesn't volunteer too much of his past. He's aware Twilight doesn't want to burden him, thinks he has too much on his plate. It's irritating, most times. So he cannot help feel a little eager even when he shakes his head.

Twilight's corner smirk feels a little sheepish. “Didn't think so? Ain't my proudest moment.”

“You? Having done anything you are not proud of? But aren't you the perfect, dutiful hero who knows when it's proper to scout and not?”

“Go swallow a bokoblin gut risotto.”

Wild rolls his eyes at the mention of the we-promised-not-to-mention-that-experiment dish. “I'll make you a portion.”

Twilight suddenly looks a little pensive. “... Think we could trick Fancy into trying it?”

Wild smirks. “There, your hidden fae side. The others never believe me when I mention it.”

“Balance, young hero.”

“Right. Story time!” Wild claps his hands. “So, your first time meeting a Hylian soldier?”

It sobers Twi right up. “... T'was at the start of my journey. Right after the point of no-return. The children of my village were taken, my childhood friend kidnapped, and the adults in a panic. I rushed out of town, and well, got immediately captured and turned into a wolf.”

“... Nice start.”

The bonk on the head is worth it. It wasn't even painful. “Shush. I'm bleeding out and you mock me, you disrespectful child. Where was I? Oh, yeah, turned into a wolf, captured, imprisoned and left to rot in a dungeon.”

The air chills, and Wild finds the story a hell lot less funny. He can't even make a joke about putting a wolf in a cage. It'd be like sand on a wound.

“I met someone there, who helped me escape. Lemme tell you, Cub, dungeons aren't a great place to develop a much greater sense of smell. Honestly, I probably wasn't thinking straight for a bit. I just wanted out. Fresh air. Anything but the walls closing in on me...” – Wild feels the shudder against his body – “I was near the exit when I met him. A proud Hylian soldier of her majesty's army. Right there in the dungeon, left a mere spirit by the twilight's influence. And he... he was cowering in a corner... I **hated** him.”

There's something to the weight of it that strikes Wild at his core. The sort of darkness that Twi doesn't show, that nothing he does hint at. But even with that, the thing that comes to mind most is what the story means now.

“Wow... ” Wild starts, his voice brimming with forced awe. “You're about as subtle as a goat's kick to the nuts, Twi.”

Warriors and Legend have _nothing_ on the absolutely, smug little smirk on Twilight's face. “Still bitter, aren't cha?”

Wild throws his arms in the air. “Fighting Ganon wasn't half as painful!”

“Well, I hate to say 'I told you so'...”

“Liar! You live for it!”

Twi chuckles. “Yeah. But come on, I told you to face the goats head on.”

“They've got massive horns!”

“And legs. Now you know why no one wrestles cattle from behind. Predators are the only ones that approach the hind legs, and yeah, they get the kicks too.” A more serious look flitter on Twilight's face. “Knew a man or two that died that way, back home. Just, one day, startled an animal and it kicked. Landed on the wrong spot. The wrong rib. The head. Don't mess around cattle, Cub.”

Wild winces. Far more somber than before, he nods for his brother's sake. It's not like he never saw the horses kick when he tried to tame them. Just that he was good at avoiding them even when he was thrown off. He wants to say he would never get killed in such a stupid way, but...

(It _had_ stopped raining, but the rocks were still wet in the shadowed spots. He hadn't known until...)

(He'd woken up to Mipha's voice, and Wolfie's panicked barks and tears, and he'd promised – _promised –_ to never be so careless again.)

“What happened with the soldier?” he asks, because now his mind is on ghosts, and he's never known his big brother to hate them.

Twilight, annoyingly, shrugs. “Well, I broke the curse of twilight on Castle Town, so he's probably just patrolling the street like any other guard.”

“... You didn't look? You never met him again? Not even when you walked back into Castle Town later? I thought you had to do a bunch of quests there?”

“No,” Twilight starts, then frowns a bit to himself. “Maybe?”

A groan builds up in the back of his throat. “Twiliiiiight...”

Said big dumb oaf pushes him, just hard enough for a stumble. “It's not like I got a good look at his face. Or...” He looks away, quieter. “That I had nothing else on my mind at the time. I'd... I'd just been turned into a wild animal and asked to help an imp with some grandiose task. I was running around dungeons, surrounded by ghoul rats, and... there it was, the first glimpse of hope I might have had.”

Wild gulps. He hates to imagine Twilight, Hylian or wolf, ragged, hurt, looking for help and finding...

“He was cowering. I was just a farmer, kidnapped, stolen from home and twisted into this new form. I _needed_ help. And there was a soldier, who'd signed up for this, for the protection of Hyrule and its citizens... She called me naïve. Asked me if I really thought a light worlder could brave the twilight.”

She. Wild tries not to tick at the mention of that one. Does not ask her name, because he knows a wound when he hears one. He focuses on the dungeon. The dark and damp, the chains he recalls, and he places Wolfie there, scared, and it makes him burn with anger to have the _first_ person his brother come across turn him away.

But Twilight's lips are twisted in a grimace, his eyes heavy as they take in the night over Lon Lon Ranch.

“He was scared. And I hated him. Was I really any better? A man who couldn't take a step in the twilight without passing out? When my bones rattled with the thoughts of those critters crawling all over my body again?”

“You pushed through,” Wild says, because Twilight had to have. Twilight won. Twilight went on his quest and he saved Hyrule. Twilight hadn't... he...

“Yeah. I went through Hyrule, and one by one, saved the Light Spirits, reforged the Mirror of Twilight, fought the Usurper and the King of Evil. And along the way, I picked up some allies, mourned the people I was too late for and embraced those I saved. But I didn't forget that man. When I saw the kids of my village, locked in a basement in fear of monsters, I remembered. And it was a little easier to forgive. When I reached Zora's domain and saw the hundreds frozen in ice, the ghost of the queen begging me to help her son... ”

His voice falters, becomes thick with emotion. And Wild can't help flash back to Muzu's accusation, to Sidon's sad smile when he mentions Mipha's gift to him. He hadn't thought...

There's something knowing in Twilight's eyes. “Gifted me a Zora armor and everything. Some things don't change, Cub.”

“They should,” he whispers, unable to keep the raw hurt from it.

Twi snakes an arm around him, and brings him close. “Aye, they ought to, but sometimes they don't. It's out of our hands. We don't get to make the world the goddesses put us in. Just what we do in it. Maybe I don't bow to the guards in my Hyrule, Cub, but I don't hate them either. They were men. Just that. I was wrong to hate them for something out of their control.”

Twilight really is as subtle as a goat's kick to the nuts.

Maybe it's his turn. Like a bomb in a shrine. Go off once, and watch the whole thing crumble.

“There was a Lon Lon Ranch in my Hyrule...” he starts, slow, with a sob building deep in his chest, “I found the ruins. You could make a beeline from it to Castle Town. But... it was overrun by guardians.”

The wood under him feels hot. Feels like it's burning, like it'll collapse any second now as a reminder that even when his fellow heroes build themselves a life, he'll be right there around the corner to ruin it all.

“It just... we're here now, and there are plenty of ruins in my era, but I never... I never met the owners, but Malon's so kind to us, and the Old Man trusts me, and I can't bear thinking of their disappointment when they learn-”

“Cub, if your next sentence includes any variation of the word 'failure', I will shove you off this roof.”

Wild blinks. His words peter out. He sees the absolute seriousness of Twilight's threat. Then, confidently, “You wouldn't. I could be injured.”

Twilight's glare goes deadpan. “I will shove you off that side” – he points to the other side of the roof – “where we shoveled the cow manure. It won't hurt. Even if you land head first.”

 _That_ threat is a great deal more plausible.

There is silence, some variation that hints at the snores of the cows and horses in the barn below, that suggests the song of crickets and buzzing fairies by the grass, the stern, patient glare that only grows sharper every second it lasts.

Then, slowly, Wild scoots away from his big brother.

“Wild!” Twilight harshly calls.

“I'm sorry!” Wild yelps, taking off and running around the chimney to put something between them.

“Don't apologize! It wasn't your fault!”

They circle the chimney, feinting left and right.

“I was the Chosen Hero! I trained for the Calamity my entire life!”

“You had an entire country's worth of people helping! How can it be your fault alone? They dug those machines up, they armed themselves with weapons that Ganon had already faced! None of your people saw it coming, but you still fought to your death, even after everyone else had passed! Why is it _your_ fault?!”

“Then why did _everyone_ blame me?” he breaks, and he feels the low, background pain suddenly rush at the front of his mind. Every little sneer, every snide comment, every moment he pulled down his hood just to avoid recognition...

“They were wrong! All of them! The whole **fucking** country!” Twilight growls back. “They put Hyrule's destruction on your hands, when it was Ganon. Half of them weren't even alive when it happened. They had no right to blame you! If they wanted the world to be better, they should have made it better themselves! And if they couldn't, they didn't have the right to blame the only person that was _still trying!_ ”

His knees shake. He needs to grab onto the chimney's edge to stay upright. The want in his heart hurt so much. He feels his whole being lean into Twilight's words, scream at him to believe, to push past the memories and remember only the good, the smiling greetings, the cheers, the wedding, the sight of Zelda finally, finally freed from her battle to protect Hyrule. “Twilight,” he croaks. “Why didn't you... why did you _stay_? You knew... I'd died. I was a clueless, directionless, scattered-brain idiot! I'd done nothing to be worth your help. I was just like that guard. Why didn't you… Why _don't_ you hate me?”

The hand that grabs his wrist closes with a steel grip. The shock jumbles his self-loathing enough that he glances up, and meets the fiercest blue he's ever seen. “Look me in the eyes and say you think I _can_ hate you.”

It's like getting sucker punched. All the air in his lungs leave. Even though his panicked, overworking brain screams that yes, yes he could, hadn't he just told him all about him hating the failure of Hyrule's army? But he can't levy that knowledge against everything he knows now. He can't even make it counterweight the idea that, maybe, being steady now meant he found his balance before. It's all meaningless noise in the end. Wild just needs one look at Twilight, and even his worst insecurities relent.

“It's different! You're _you_ ,” he says, helplessly gesturing to all of Twilight. Like that's supposed to explain everything. “And-”

“And Time's Time,” Twilight completes. “Malon's Malon. Need I go on?”

“It's not the same!”

“Fine!”

Twilight gives him **The Look**. Not his imitation of Time's disappointed Look. But his patented I-will-outstubborn-you-and-the-goddesses-themselves Look. Wild is intimately aware that none of his companions have seen it as frequently as him. They haven't learned to fear it yet even though they should. They really, _really_ should.

(Twi wrestles goats taller than him for fun. He wrestles _gorons_ for fun. Wild himself knows better than to try that stunt after Daruk! Twi's insane and no one else has noticed!)

Teeth grind together, and there's the bitten out words that push him off balance.

“There is no Lon Lon Ranch in _my_ Hyrule. Is that _my_ fault? Should I get down on my knees before the Old Man and beg for forgiveness?”

Wild's reply dies in his throat, a strangled croak.

That can't be right.

He _knows_ that Twilight's before him and after Time. Twilight's said so, the records existed about both of them, the order they were in, and Twilight so obviously knew the Old Man before this started...

But... Twilight had never mentioned the Lon Lon Ranch before. Part of him had been assuming... Except, no, it's always been about Ordon, the province of Hyrule from which he hails, the farmer village and the ranch on which he herds his precious, dumbass goats.

There's no Ordon either, Wild realizes with a strangle grasp of guilt. What part of his predecessors did he not ruin?

A hand cuffs the back of his head, and the shock of pain is just enough to get him to stick his tongue out. Twilight, in response, raises an eyebrow like he can read his thoughts. He probably can though, given how much practice he has.

“Ordon's gone by the time of your era, Cub. Renamed and probably rebuilt differently. I wouldn't recognize it if I walked the land myself. Don't try and shoulder that.”

But what else is he supposed to do about it?

“Let it be.”

But the lost-

Twilight hooks an arm around Wild's neck, and pulls him close. “Don't try to hold on to long gone dreams. Not everything's meant to last forever, Cub.”

Wild averts his gaze, who is suddenly so heavy he can only look down. Can only blink away the beginning of tears. He knows. He knows that nothing lasts forever, even this quest, but... why can't _anyone_ stay a little while longer?

Twilight's voice softens, low and rumbling like Wolfie's noises. “We'll have to go our own way. We ain't nobodies. We're the Heroes of Courage. There's always gonna be someone in need of us in our own times. But you won't be alone. There's your Zelda, and your new Champions. Sidon'd love to cheer you up. And Farore knows Yunobo would need your delicate touch to get him out of his shell.”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Did I tell you about that time Zelda asked him to test a new model of cannons?”

Twi snorts, and the two of them manage to sit back down, lean against the chimney. His thoughts drift away from the memories of the ruined ranch, when time passes them by and a shooting star twinkles above.

“Farore's tear,” Twi points, “say a prayer.”

Wild indulges, though it goes toward Hylia. Quickly enough, he opens his eyes again, and shoots his big lump of a brother a look. “What will you do? Once we defeat whoever's behind our warping?”

“Well, probably try and avoid Zelda,” he says, sheepish, one finger scratching his cheek.

His bafflement is written all over his face, Wild knows, but he still needs to ask, in the flattest voice possible, “What?”

“My Queen and I ain't... It's more of a knightly what's it called. Fancy would know. Ah, whatever, call it what it is: respect, trust. And I know she will insist on a report. She's no fool, that one. Knows I wouldn't go off gallivanting for weeks and months on end for no reason. And she's not fond of being left in the dark. But I'll be darned if I ain't making a bee line for Ordon once this is over. I... I want to hug Colin, share an ale with Rusl and Uli, learn which of Lumi's firsts I missed, which I'll have to make up for the little lass.”

Lumi, Twilight's youngest adopted sibling. Few years old. Probably spoiled rotten the way Twi talks about her. In his mind, he pictures... a little brunette, tugging at Twilight's legs to be spun around and get piggyback rides. Maybe picking even a small stick, to play fight like her giant brother.

And Twilight would turn around, to ask Warriors to help train their little fighter and... blink at nothing. Shrug. That's what Wild's afraid of. The day he'll wake up and find he only needs to make breakfast for one instead of nine. That the others will move on and he will have to build yet another place for himself.

He hums, not wanting his voice to betray him.

“Home's where you make it, Cub.” Gentle fingers brush Wild's hair. He melts into the touch. “Sounds hypocritical when I'm the one who's always had a stable place, but even on my journey, especially near the end, I was home too. Home was a campfire and a princess with wits sharper than my sword and hair shifting like flames. It was the quiet of a cold night in the desert with lizards roasting over crackling embers. Back then, I was as happy as a goat in pasture. It never felt like it would end.”

A haunted shadow passes in Twilight's gaze.

“But it did,” he whispers. “It did, and now we're here, a new adventure, a new home for us.”

Wild hates the pain in his brother's voice. Hates that he sees his own hurt reflected, and a selfish part of him is even glad. It feels like love, this understanding. “I'll miss you,” he says, the only thing that can convey just how much he dreads the future.

“And I'll miss you too, you wild cub. No matter what insane scheme you cook up in that brain of yours, I'll miss every second of it.” Then he pulls back. “Also, don't be daft, you paid nearly five thousand rupees for that house in Hateno and chopped I don't know how many trees, you ain't just throwing that away on a whim, Cub. Sell it if you want to move.”

The non-sequitur throws him off. “I'm not!” Wild stammers, blushing. “Bolson would freak if I let it go to ruin a second time! And I still have to show Zelda around the place too.” The snicker makes him look down, grumble. “Mother cucco.”

“Good,” – the hand is rougher, no less affectionate, when it scrambles his fringe – “some sense at long last! There's hope for the future!”

Hope. Maybe Twi's not just a stupid farmer hunk. Maybe he should give that a try.

Wild's grin is a small, hopeful thing. “Who knows? Maybe we'll get to go on a third adventure together.”

He's heard a few curses about the goddesses from the others before, but he knows Hylia can't be _too_ cruel if she sent Twilight his way. He'll never admit it in front of witnesses, but, at the very beginning, he needed someone to watch over him. Though, Wild thinks with a bit of irritation, only at the beginning. He learns quickly. And it was mostly... the loneliness afterward.

Twilight sighs, wistful and despairing, and teasing. “That'd be something. More months of babysitting.”

Wild, despite himself, rises to the bait. “Excuse me. Which one of us attracted the wrong attention and got chased through Hyrule Fields?”

Instead of the sheepish, boyish grimace Wild was expecting, Twilight's mouth split open in a wide shit-eating grin. “You were overthinking it.”

“O-overthinking...? Wait. _You did that on purpose?!_ There were three guardians! We nearly died!”

“Nearly never counts, young hero.”

“I broke twelve weapons!”

“You were overburdened. It would have slowed you down.” Twilight waits the right amount of heartbeat in incredulous silence, then adds: “Also, you had spent twenty minutes trying to decide whether or not you should replace your broadsword with that flaming flamberge. After that fight, you had _plenty_ of space in your inventory. No need to hunt some Farore-damned koroks.”

Wild stares, his jaw hanging. The world just backflipped and landed flat on its face. Twilight... he what?!

“Hylia, I changed my mind. Don't reunite us past this. He'd lead me to my death.”

Twilight eventually recovers from his bellows of laughter. But the grin that remains has an edge of fangs to it, something impish that reminds him of Time's cryptic comments and Wind's mischief. “I would not. But in the event that we do die an inglorious death, the others will assume it was your fault anyway.”

Wild sputters. “W-what? No, I'd describe in excruciating details how you, big lump of a wolf, just ran straight at monsters with no plan!”

“Who would they believe between us? The wild, mannerless pyromaniac that's constantly pulling death defying stunts? Or the dutiful, dull farmhand that's always trying to reign him in? Just imagine the scene.”

Wild does. The image comes to him unbidden, of some sort of white featureless plain full of fog and the spirits of his brothers-in-arms, where they both just materialize there, singed by the fatal explosion of some guardian's laser.

He wouldn't even get a chance to _speak_.

They'd all just send him various flat looks and pat Twilight on the back, calling it a good run. It was bound to happen eventually. And Twilight, the ass, would soak it all up as if it was earned and not his plan in the first place!

He needs to sit down. “Holy shit, you're worse than Ganon.”

Twilight offers him a bottle of Lon Lon milk. Likely poisoned, he thinks, after that revelation. He sips some of it anyway. It's good milk.

“Wild, you can't even fathom the depths of my mercy.”

See, someone who could make 'mercy' sound ominous had no right to complain about being called evil.

“You're scaring me.”

Twilight's legs swing over the edges of the rooftop. “Good, because it seems you haven't realized how much blackmail I sit on. Months, Cub. Months and months of travels with no one to tell you no. Every embarrassing thing you've ever done, I was a witness to.”

It's probably a bit sad that Wild can't even narrow it down to a handful of incidents.

“But I haven't destroyed you yet, Cub.”

Wild fights the full body shiver that crawls down his spine. “Don't think I won't bring you down with me! I have pictures! Ah! Who will they believe now?”

“Me,” Twilight replies flatly.

He hates that this one simple word deflates his hard-earned comeback. “I hate you so much, Twi.”

“Aw, I love you too, little brother.” The arm that hooks around his neck is none too gentle. “So stop jumping over fucking lava!”

“No, I'm a free spirit! And I won't listen to your evil whispers anymore!”

With practiced ease, Wild ducks under the moblin arm trying to strangle him and slips by the edge of the rooftop. A kick pushes him forward, and he backflips just to strut over Twilight's lumbersome build, and lands in the pile of hay. Twilight has barely the time to shoot a warning 'Oy! Get back here!' that Wild sprints away into the darkness. The tearing, blockish sound of Twilight's teleportation rings behind him, and he doubles his speed. Dumb wolves can't climb over the fences _or_ the cliffsides that surround the ranch.

He's halfway around the track when he realizes that his chest no longer pangs with the echoes of guilt. And the first thought that comes to mind is ' _that conniving goat-lover!_ '

***

Three days later, after a trek through Sky's forests, Four is the one that speaks the thing that's on all their mind.

“So... anyone else is wondering why Wild is so unusually well-behaved?” he says once Wild is out of earshot, having left with Sky to wash down dishes in a nearby stream.

Wind nods heavily as others voice their assent. Hyrule, in particular, looks a little put off since being told 'no' to exploring the region yesterday. The fact that it had been said through gritted teeth had confused him a little, but he hadn't managed to find out the reason. Wild had just asked the others to witness how he was being a 'respectable hero that follows rules, remember that'.

Legend and Warriors, though, don't seem too concerned. Counting their good fortune maybe. They do, however, make a bet about it. “Better that than moping around,” Legend snarks.

“Don't be mean,” Hyrule says, chastising. “Though I guess I'm glad he's feeling better.”

Time, wordlessly, glances at Twilight, who may or may not be staying in the background, leaning against a tree with the face of a wolf left alone to watch over three defenseless and tasty lambs. The expression does not waver at his mentor's silent question. Far from it.

“Spite, reverse psychology and some long term planning,” Twilight drawls.

That sends a shiver down their spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some versions of Twi and Wild: Endless patience, understanding, kindness, nurturing.  
> Me: Let’s add juuuuuust a touch of this *bickering, mind reading, roughhousing, blackmail, threats, namecalling, mindgames*. There, perfect!


	9. Lightest before Dusk

Her dresses flutter as she strides into her throne room. The hushed whispers die down at her entrance, her courtiers startled and her guards standing at attention.

When they had mentioned a tear in space, Zelda's heartbeat had picked up. There were only so many explanations, and some of her agents had already confirmed that they felt no hostile power in the spell. Was her Hero back? He'd been gone for weeks now. It seemed only right that he returned to her sooner than later.

(She forbid herself the thought that it might have been-)

But on her way, another servant had come to greet them. Link. Link had returned. And so she had entered with her queenly mask in place and her thoughts light.

A few of the heroes still groan as they try to get back their bearings. By the looks of surprise, it might not have been a very graceful landing. Her people shuffle about, nervous by the presence of armed strangers, and those that recognize Link amongst them... stiffen. She makes a mental note of their faces and allegiances, for later review.

The hero with the blue scarf notices her first, and he goes on one knee with a smooth, practiced motion. A knight, that one, she immediately knows.

The rest imitates the motion or pay her respect in whatever custom their era holds. The youngest is amusingly the stiffest, his eyes not on her but the knight. A touching bond, she imagines.

With pose, she greets them all, until Link's nearest companion – scarred, a little younger, naturally sticking close to Link in the middle of a crowd – seems to realize that she is Queen over Link. His expression turns from respectful to impish, mischievous and far too triumphant.

Link cringes as if he realizes exactly what goes through that one's mind.

… And he put that one's neck in a sidehold, trying to stifle the barks of laughter without much success.

“Oh, hey, your majesty, did you know what Twi sa-?”

Link's hand slaps on top of the exuberant one's mouth. A tad desperate for his silence, and though she knows no words her Hero had spoken would be _truly_ damaging, she cannot resist the urge to tease him. With her best, coldest mask, she arches a single eyebrow. Link's face takes on a cherry red color, one she had yet to see from him.

Muffled and swallowed snickers abound from the group of heroes. Poor Link shushes them, and it is when the knightly one reminds them of her presence that they settle, somewhat. Link looks grateful, and a little torn. What relationship does he share with this hero? One of surface level friction, she muses, that cannot reach the core of their trust in one another.

Link schools his expression into a solemn look.

“My Queen,” he says, a hand over his chest and his head bowed.

“My Hero,” she replies, so perfectly even. “Have you travelled well?”

He has a dark glare for the scarred hero.

“It's been... an adventure.”

Yes, she pictures it nicely now. And part of her warms to the image of her Hero so well looked after.

“Is there need of my assistance for any of your companions, My Hero?”

Link pauses, then quickly glances back. “Right this second? No, we could use a moment to rest,” he says, and rolls his shoulder for show.

She allows herself a small smile.

“I bid you all welcome into the kingdom of Hyrule, brave heroes of time past and to come. Accommodations will be arranged for all of you tonight. Refreshments and food will be brought to you. You need only ask. The Royal Family does not forget the debt owed to its saviors.”

“We would be thankful for such generosity, My Queen,” he says, and the relief in the others is badly hidden.

She gestures for her guards to show them to chambers being prepared by some poor, rushing maids. Circumstances oblige. They'd be compensated in some way later. As the heroes move to obey, however, she raises her voice once more.

“My Hero, I would have you share some tea with me. We have much to discuss.”

A few of them misstep, and shoot Link curious glances.

The one-eyed soldier lifts an eyebrow.

But Link shakes his head at his commander. He lands a strong clap on the man's back and juts his chin at the exit. Silent words are exchanged without even a twitch, and, on cue, eight heroes leave the throne room through the front doors, led by an honor escort. Link, however, breaks the distance between them and offers a second bow.

“I am at your service.”

 _That you are,_ she thinks to herself. Her courtiers do not notice. Not the irony of her thoughts, nor the displeasure she must hide from them every other week.

They disappear together through the passage only the royal family may take, and together they climb the staircase to the highest point of the castle. Few members of her forces patrol the area, all of which pay her their respect, and try to hide some contempt for Link. It cements her plan in her mind.

She waits two heartbeats after the doors to her chambers close, then rushes into his arms.

“Zelda,” he whispers, at first, his arms strong around her, “it's not proper.”

She knows. Of course she knows. Many like to remind her. But queen she might be, she is also Hylian, and she missed him. Him and his lack of decorum, care for propriety. She never asked it of him. Not as themselves.

“Farore has blessed many of my court,” she replies, pulling away from him.

Tea and biscuits have been laid out at her orders, and she invites him to sit.

“To think they would still suggest you to be too lowly for any association with me.”

Link hums in his teacup. “They do say Farore loves her fools.”

Zelda shoots him a sharp look. “Do not insult yourself so.”

For all of a second, her knight looks sheepish. Then: “But...?” he asked, his fangs shining in the corner of his mouth.

She lets out a sigh. “But those people _specifically_ are, indeed, fools.”

His chest rumbles with an unspoken hum, a melody from home. Ordon. Zelda has rarely visited, and not once in recent memory. For all Hyrule rules over Ordon, that province is marginal at best. Out of sight and out of mind to most her subjects, she knows. How ironic that the Golden Three would pick their Hero out of this forgotten corner of Hyrule. A reminder, it would seem, that none of her subjects deserve to be neglected. She took it seriously; she wonders more often than not if her nobles have.

Link does not speak right away. He samples the biscuits, always a little wary of food he cannot identify at a glance. A remnant of the life of the traveler, she had long guessed. But after the first bite, he nearly swallows the next two whole. They must have gone without rest for some time before the portal brought them to her. She is glad the kitchen had been forewarned to cater to their whims.

Her first sip of tea coats a floral flavor on her tongue. It is one of Link's favorites, and she can appreciate its subtle qualities beneath the light, almost perfume-like fragrances. She had not cared for it before, but now she is away from public eyes, she is quite famished herself.

Link looks at her like he knows, and it prompts her to, in more delicate words, play with him.

“The scarred, insolent one,” she starts, her tone neutral to hide her teasing, “he is the one the goddesses sent you to help, isn't he?”

Link pales a bit. “My Queen, he meant no-”

“Peace,” she says with a smile. “I care not, My Hero, for protocol beyond its use in social gatherings. Least of all for one I see dear to your heart.”

Reassured, Link relaxes, settling back into his seat with an equally tender smile. His eyes flit to her window, to the rolling clouds and the splatters of rain on the glass. So many tears from the heavens.

(They do not shatter two hearts.)

She banishes the thought. Her Hero is here, and followed by eight others across time and space. The very idea fascinates her. Makes her wish for time to speak with them and show them what records the kingdom has kept. The Chosen Hero, the Hero of Light, the Hero of Time. Hyrule only remembers so few, and there is temptation all on its own, to know that some hail from times yet to come.

But her desires do not weigh enough for the indulgence. Other matters are of greater import.

“Those heroes of legend. You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

No pause. No consideration. Yes, she had thought as much. If no one else, Heroes of Courage could only be trustworthy. The Goddesses would never tolerate otherwise.

But in truth, that judgment, she had already decided upon witnessing the easy manners Link displayed around them. Link suffers no false-faced turncloaks. There had been nothing begrudging in their interactions. Rather, the brotherly banters they had shushed upon her arrival had amused her as much as it had enlightened her.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asks, gently. Not an order, but a request from a curious mind.

He lights up, and his earnest joy shines above the drab atmosphere of the late afternoon. He speaks exuberantly, familiarly, as if they are old friends. He even manages to snatch a laugh out of her, something she is well aware her court desperately tries ever still. Ice queen, they murmur out of her sight. A few hinges their courtship on their charm, and for the life of her, Zelda knows they cannot equal this simple man speaking of the love he has for these newfound brothers-in-arms.

He speaks of them like Ordon, like home, and perhaps it is what emboldens her to ask, after a delicate bite of her biscuit: “Do they... like their Zelda?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smaller and somehow more mysterious. Puzzling. It is not a mannerism he used to have. She wonders which heroes he picked it up from. Perhaps the scarred, one-eyed hero. Link had stood by him with a deference he is loath to show any he doesn't believe deserve it. And that man had been the stoic sort, at least on a surface level. If her suspicions about their respective identities proved correct...

Well. It matters not, she supposes.

Link takes the time to swallow another swing of his tea, the impudent farmboy that he is, and looks at her knowingly.

“The Chosen's smitten.” Link wipes some breadcrumbs from his mouth, which then turns upward into a smirk. “You should hear him when he tries to write her songs. It's adorable.”

“Yes, adorable,” she repeats to herself, willing her cheeks not to burn.

Quick as it came, the amusement drains out of him, and he sounds more apologetic next. “The truth is, I don't know, my Queen. Some of them are fond, some are a bit like strangers, and some are like us.” He points at her and himself a few times. “In-between. What do you think of that?”

“In some ways... reassuring, I would say. Part of me worries that I have not done enough for my kingdom in its time of need.”

He opens his mouth, indignation naked on his face, and she preempts him with a raised hand. He silences his reply, and she does not back down from his glare.

“She was always more important to your quest than I.”

With a grimace, he sits back down.

“True.”

He does not lie to her. She appreciates that, on the heels of a meeting with courtiers who are never honest with her. When they had barged in this very room, during the Twilight Invasion, one cursed, one mortally wounded, she had known that it would be her choice. Her choice, and her chance to save her kingdom. When Link speaks of _her,_ he softens at this part, at the sanded out edge of _her_ wits and quips.

There's a faint hurt in Zelda's chest. A longing, phantom, mere daydreams that do not belong to her. To give part of one's soul is to accept part of someone else's in return. In that way, it is quite like love. She had known it would hurt, and had done it anyway, for her hero needed another princess. But Nayru, at the very least, blessed her too much to let those visions of a brave wolf and braver man cloud her reason. No union could be successful from a pair of fools chasing shadows.

“You were important though, My Queen. Don't underestimate yourself.” He holds out her gaze with the strength that let him challenge the King of Evil. “You were our goal, our salvation – more than once, the last one to give me strength against Ganondorf. You brought the Light Spirits' blessing to that battle, and the Three know I wouldn't have managed without it.”

She finishes her cup. “One's advices are so much more convincing when equally applied to oneself.”

“Fair. We were meant to do it together, My Queen. Believe me, it's like history told me eight times over.”

Her lips curl up faintly. “Only eight times? And to think you could be told a hundred times without moving before. Nayru has finally seen you fit to receive some of her blessing,”

His indignation flashes in his eyes, and settles in his innocent, wolf-like grin. “Aww, shucks. Your Majesty, don't you be using big words to insult lil' ol' me.”

“It was no insult. Your determination often forces admiration, My Hero.”

He chuckles under his breath. He says something that might be 'wolf boy'.

This is what they are to each other: a way to remember one they do not wish to forget and whose hearts long to, so they may at last heal. They are. Healing. She knows this. Just as she knows the process is slow and grueling, but every meeting they hold in her chambers, every teacup shared by the window, their gaze overlooking Castle Town... she feels closer to it.

And by the gentleness in Link's eyes, she thinks he feels the same way. That even away from her, gallivanting through time and space, he has progressed as well.

Naturally, with none of the terrible awkwardness that plagued their early conversations, their words drift away to more casual topics, the health of the servants, the network of the resistance, the state of the kingdom. Easy words for her to speak. They drift from anecdotes about the castle's kitchen to the latest nobility gathering to her bemoaning of the state's newest budget.

At his request, she produces the copy for him to skim, which he does with a ferocity that is rather inappropriate for questions of maintaining bridges and holding the annual solstice celebrations. And therein lies the problem. He begins his commentary.

Link, it must be said, is also a miser of the worst sort. He would never let her exceed budget and does indeed question anything but the strictest necessity. It is as useful an attribute in an advisor as it is prodigiously irritating.

“My Hero, whilst the people _can_ survive perfectly well on a tight purse, they do not _want to_. I must consider... certain sensibilities.”

“Why?” he finally asks, standing and disturbing his cup on the desk. “Why must _you_ when it seems none of them ever do? How can they bow to you and then demand? You're their queen! Everything you've done has been to help Hyrule recover and thrive. Why can't _they_ put their darned wants aside for one season?!”

If only her nobles could be half as loyal, she might actually enjoy the administration of her council. “It is my queenly duty, Link.”

His stubborn, darkened look recedes. “Aye, aye, I know. Big part of why I believe in you, Zelda, but...”

Her hand catches his, and through her glove and his gauntlet, warmth reaches from and to the divine mark they share.

“You wish it was not so. That others might be willing to sacrifice for the good of their brethrens.”

His ears droop.

To be a hero is to walk a lonely road. To have the world at your feet and its weight on your shoulders. And Link is strong, so strong to have done it.

In her hearth, the fire crackles and spits out dying ember. The dregs of tea in her cup have gone cold. They have been at this long, long enough for the gossip to come back to life, and momentarily, she dares imagine the ribbing Link will be subjected to when he meets back with his companion.

But, Zelda regrets, that would come to a quick stop, once they notice.

She has delayed as much as she could. But, again, duty demands it of her, of him.

“Forgive me, my Hero, for what I must ask of you.”

She sees it in his gaze. The surety, the sturdiness that is a man of the land. Stubborn and decisive. Less delusions than most. He knows, then, that she means it. That it is no idle speculation, and that he _will_ suffer in the course of his duty.

Yet he nods, once, a short thing. “You already are.”

There is no doubt in him.

Not yet.

She names the place she must send him to, and so rises the shadows of his regrets in his sky blue eyes.

He does not hear much of her explanation. She proceeds as if he does, as gentle an offering of time for him to gather his Courage she can afford to give.

“My Hero,” she whispers to him at last, her touch light on his chin, “Link, return to me whole.”

It's as much an order as she dares give, and the ghost of his smile lets her know he understands her feelings.

“As long as you need me, My Queen.”

 _Need me forever, don't let me go, not you too,_ is the prayer he will never voice. _Nayru help us both._

***

Flecks of sand grates against his skin as harsh winds pick up. He wants to say he doesn't notice, but it would be a lie. He'd rather focus on the irritating grit, on the whistle of scorching dry air. On the glare of the sun even as the shadows of pillars inch closer to them.

Yet, he can't quite manage.

He stares ahead at the place he most hates in his Hyrule.

He loves his country. Loves the beauty he found in every corner, in the smile of strangers and the purr of beasts. From start to finish, Twilight had simply loved the world he was born in. But this place, he can't bring himself to feel anything for it.

_(he would be swallowed)_

_(torn from the inside, darkness spreading, a mask with tendrils forced on his face like those poor people he couldn't save)_

“Sky... You probably don't want to get inside that place,” he hears himself say.

The patient wait twists into a knot of tension. The ring of silent question bears on his back, and he turns, comes face to face with a Sky that is stone-faced, all but daring to be left behind. His eyes are more steel than the sword in Twilight's hand.

A nod.

It was a futile hope. Sky was the first to incarnate the Hero's Spirit. He never lacked in Courage. But this will hurt. Hurt so bad to show Sky a glimpse of the darkness that the dream shared with his love will unleash.

 _(it's not on him, never was on_ Sky _, their sweet knight from above, but Twilight knows too much about heroes not to predict what one feels about responsibilities)_

Time stalks forward, diffusion some of the tension.

“Is this one of your world's temples, Pup?”

A temple? He wants to scoff. This place is no temple. Nothing sacred, not anymore. It's a place of misery and pain and grudges never allowed to rest. It's a testament of sin and it's the place he wakes up to in his nightmares, one prisoner amongst many, chained with a spiked collar, Hylian or wolf.

The others wait after his words, and he hates the honest curiosity he sees in their gazes.

He should find a gentler way to say it.

But simply standing in the shadow of this place drains him of his energy. He already feels the weight of memories pulling at his limbs. It takes a mild effort to look back to the old man.

“... No, but I believe it is where one used to be. This is the prison they built when they exterminated the Gerudo.”

Blood rushes out of Time's face. He looks _pale_ , horrified. There's no real need to elaborate, is there? The Hero of Time knows why and how Hyrule and its Gerudo neighbors would go to war.

Something like guilt and disgust twist inside Twilight's stomach. Why did he say that?

“Twi!” Wild shouts, his objection all too obvious.

“Those that stayed died. The warriors. The zealots. Those that didn't believe the kokiri seer had been truthful about Ganondorf's reign of terror.”

Time looks on the verge of being sick. “They weren't meant... ” he trails off, his one good eye staring at the torture complex.

Twilight puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details. You'd have to ask my Queen for the records of the kingdom's history.” – He sighs, squeezes gently. – “But peace didn't last, and that's why this place was built out of the ruins of a sacred place. A desecration of the worst kind. To let the torments of the regretful last.”

He wants to ease the pain on Time's face so bad, but... he can't. Whatever else happened, Time had been a child at the time. He'd saved the kingdom. The cost...

Twilight fumbles with a match to light his lantern. He can't think of costs right now. It's not the place. The flame from his lantern illuminates the first few steps into the broken doors of the prison complex.

“Be careful inside. This place is haunted by more than just the horrors of Hyrule's dark past. Lost souls and living corpses are trapped inside.”

“Gloom and doom, much?” Legend snarks.

It takes effort not to snarl.

“Just don't get paralyzed by a scream when you're standing on quicksand, Bunnyboy.”

The others straighten at his uncharacteristical snap. That, or the image he suddenly conjured of them, slowly engulfed by torrents of sand, unable to move but all too aware of what was happening. Back then, if it hadn't been for...

Not the time to be losing himself in old memories.

His chest pangs with guilt. The way the others look at him. The surprise. The shock for his poor manners. He mumbles an apology. Turns away quickly to face the dried out shadows of the unlit tunnel.

Farore, he hates how the Arbiter's Grounds empties him from the inside out.

  
  


***

  
  


There were, to Twilight's knowledge, two likely locations for what his queen asked him to investigate. He had been silently praying when he'd opened the gates to the inner sanctum. Had come close to begging as Hyrule and Legend examined the dusty remains of the paper talismans, and though repulsed confirmed their power long lost, alongside what they had been made to restrain. The Lense of Truth hadn't revealed anything else, and

– he couldn't turn into a wolf, not here, not where _she_ –

it had been a waste of time. Unsurprising.

“Why go for the least likely first then?” Warriors had demanded, his stance a bit more defensive.

Because the Death Sword had been sealed in the middle of the prison complex, and if he was wrong, then Twilight would rather avoid having to backtrack through this accursed place. Upon that reasoning, the rest conceded that he had a point, even if they had some complaints.

“If the source of that dark magic flare wasn't in that creepy cell, why are there some many monsters here?” Hyrule asks, off-hands, as he locks swords with a stall captain.

There's no reason to worry, not quite.

“This place is never empty of monsters!” he shouts over his shoulder, crushing some of the smaller skeletons under a broad swing of his sword. “It's been soaked in blood and torment. No one rests in the Arbiter's Grounds.”

Legend, balancing on a near sunken platform above sinking send, kicks away a moldorm with trained ease. He seems pleased for all of a few seconds, before Wind points behind him at a shambling shadow emerging from an alcove in the walls.

Legend's sword seizes midswing, a piercing shriek tearing through the air with the force of a waking nightmare. The scream bounces in their heads, bites into bones and wraps around flesh. It strikes and tempers, and leaves all nine of them fighting their own bodies for the right to move as it inches ever closer to its target. He hears strangled grunts from his left, clatters of metal on the ground from his right. Struggles to break free.

And all Twilight knows is he'll be damned if this place steals another loved one from him.

He stumbles forward, amongst the first to do so. He doesn't waste precious time thinking, assessing. The shadows swallow him, and he dashes on four legs.

Paws stomp over sand, bugs and spikes as he bounds and leaps.

His fangs tear through the rotten flesh with ease. The revolting taste used to make him retch. The decay, the dry leather, the sandpaper texture of bandages. He's not sure if he's imagining it right now, so numb his whole body feels.

He gnarls on the monster's throat till he hits bone, then leaps off. The thing can't scream anymore. It's barely a threat without that power. It's slow, cumbersome. It drags its claymore through sands, but it doesn't get a chance to swing. He steps out of shadows with his sword in hand.

The mummified head rolls on the quicksand, soon sunken and no more than a troubling memory. The rest collapses, and they can breath again.

He's not sure what his are called. They have elements of both Gibdos and Redeads. The massive sword is only in his Hyrule though. Lucky him.

He spits to the side, the glob black and green, and the taste, worse. “Vet, you good?”

Legend's pale, his fingers twitching, and his feet pull him back closer to the center of the platform. Startled is the word that comes to mind. It comes, and goes. Legend's too – wearied – seasoned to let a mere close call shake him.

“Yeah. Thanks, wolfboy. That beast's out of the bag now,” he says, leaning toward the rest.

Despite the spill of sand, the room feels oppressively silent. Tension knots into his back. He's had nightmares of this exact moment, he suddenly realizes. The moment when the secret is out and it is time to face their judgment, be it words, disgust or drawn swords. But the silence doesn't press onto him, doesn't stifle. Warriors gauges the others, Sky looks about ready to speak up, the same way Wild does. Time looks the most wary, and Four sighs with something like relief. An incredulous chuckle building in the back of his throat, it occurs to Twilight that he never told anyone which of them knew his secrets. He's never been one to parse them out, after all. And now...

Now, Wind's shock simmers into something else as he looks to the other Links and sees little surprise or even wonder.

“Oh,” Hyrule says, the only one dazed, “I had a feeling.”

It's too muted a reaction. It sparks the flurry of feeling boiling just under Wind's skin. “Really?! We're the last two to learn?”

The way he glares at him, at the others. The accusation is clear. He thinks they don't trust him. That _Twilight_ doesn't trust him. That... that he _tricked_ him. Got the feelings out of him, then mocked him behind his back.

Twilight quiets the ' _beast!_ ' his mind screams. “It's not like that, Sailor. I never sought to reveal it to anyone. I” – _fear_ – “dislike talking about it. It just happened.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wind bites out.

“I mean it, Sailor,” he tells the kid, hoarse. “I'm sorry.”

His tone gives Wind pause. The teen frowns, looks up at him with suspicion. “This isn't over. I'm gonna ask for more later.”

“Of course.”

“Twi,” Wild suddenly calls, his eyes flashing with worry, “are you okay?”

They can't do this inside the Arbiter's Grounds. The traps alone would be too much of a risk.

He shakes his head, then wipes the congealed blood off his blade. “I'm fine. I just hate this place.”

Warriors, with deliberate timing, clasps his hands. “Great. Finally a point in common between the two of us, Rancher. How about you lead us out of here?”

“I'd be more at ease somewhere with less chances of an ambush,” Time adds, still scanning their surroundings.

He nods. Wrestles with himself. They need him. Him, he can't fail now.

“It shouldn't be too far. Let's go.”

Sky's face twists, something like guilt, something like determination. Twilight doesn't regret following his queen's order, but he does bury the sorrow he feels at seeing his brother's dreams further crushed. Hyrule was... is... a country with a long history, and some of it unworthy of the glory it received.

There's frankly nothing Sky can do to prevent this outcome.

The thought flares with guilt. Look at him, giving lessons about making peace with the inevitable.

He ducks his head and turns back to the traps they will need to navigate.

“We'll need some creative solutions, heroes. This place is best travelled with a very specific item, and I only have the one...”

But though Warriors is the only one to share the spinner item with him, the others all have access to impressive resources to play around the traps that litter the Arbiter's Grounds. And even for the few that look perplexed, Sky's whip, Wind's hookropes or their hookshots allow them to swing back and forth over dangerous obstacles to link the groups together.

All that being said, he will keep a closer eye on his spinner for the next couple of days, because Wild's starry eyes at the sight of Twilight bouncing around on complex rails had left him chuckling for the first time today. And he wasn't blind to the intrigued glances Legend and Four had had for the item either.

Were he in a generous mood, Twilight would advise Warriors to keep a close eye on his stuff too. Kleptomania was apparently a shared trait of the Hero's Spirit.

The skull's fragments are unmoved, and their path takes them past even the boss chamber.

Light washes over them, wonderful thing that chases half the ghosts that linger in his mind after a trek through the cursed prison. Cooling winds makes him want to shout after the dusty, heavy air that mummifies every corpse down there. He wants to celebrate with the others, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees the monolith.

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden. Why? Why is he like this? He tried so hard to heal, to get over it! He's an adult, not a lovesick teenager. He's done his best to deal with the pain. So why is it that he can go months right as rain and then, one day, he just hears the wrong thing, sees the wrong shades, and his whole chest crumbles on him?

On a shaky breath, he attempts to steel himself, to dry the tears. In vain.

He is, Twilight decides there and then, _pathetic._

  
  


***

How long does he sit in front of the black stone?

The sun started to set whilst he was here. Red light over sand cast lengthening shadows, and it's too easy for him to get lost in his scrutiny of them. None ever came to life. But he still looked, wondered, ached.

With no real hint to direct their searches, the group had commonly decided that they ought to rest for now, with double watch tonight to make sure they weren't taken by surprise in an ambush. Twilight had agreed, and pretended not to feel Time's insistent stare when he slipped away to...

To do what, exactly?

He's not even sure. He's been sitting there, legs hanging by the edge, scrutinizing the stone as if it would come to life.

Eh. A callback to a bitter period of his life. Damn it! He's over this. He is!

_So why aren't you facing the others? Didn't you tell Wind you'd explain everything?_

He knows his conscience is right. He still doesn't stand. It seems, on top of everything else, Twilight might also be a hypocrite. Goddesses, why did Farore ever look his way?

They're eating, he tells himself. He can smell the hints of Wild's spice mixes from here. Can hear, vaguely, the conversations, and could even guess the contents if he strained to catch the words. He'll have to apologize. To come clean. And that's enough to root him in place. Just a few hours longer, before they can no longer bear his presence.

The idea sends pricks of ice under his skin. Any of them would be a stab wound, but it's when his mind lingers on Wild, that silly brother of his, that the rage hits.

He doesn't know many tricks, not yet. He's still learning, but on anger alone, he feels as if he could suddenly disintegrate the black stone from his glare alone. He wants it gone. He wants to be freed of it, and it's that thought that flashes last when on the canvas of ink flashes shifting oranges and yellow.

Twilight's already upright. That glimpse of fire... It hadn't been the setting sun!

He wishes he could have said he moved with purpose, his mission still in mind, not a short walk that had his heart beating out of his chest. The closer he gets, the easier it becomes to define the impression. There is someone looking back at him from beyond the stone's reflective surface.

His stomach drops when he reaches the steps.

Only himself.

He knows his queen would have something to say if she knew he felt disappointment at his own reflection. With a surly, self-deprecating smirk, he lets his fingers run over the sharded texture. Presses his palm against the ice cold material.

Imagines that the skin is a paler, greyish shade, splattered black instead of his tanned pink. The fingers would curl into his, intermingles. He holds onto the feeling.

Then yanks.

A hand cut from starless night emerges from the stone, and Twilight throws down a dark copy of himself onto the ground. The doppelganger blinks in shock, momentarily dazed.

The expression hardly improves when the Ordon Sword skewers it to the ground.

“The Prison Gate?” he drawls. “Did you think I wouldn't see a temptation coming?”

 _That you'd be the first one I faced here?_ he doesn't say. Twilight has always been good at connecting with accursed things. With forbidden practices and tricks played out in the dark. Even before his quest, before all the things that turned him from goatherd to hero, there had been the book he'd taken a fancy to. The mirror in his basement. Old dreams of a dead wolf and a dead hero.

There's a lot Twilight doesn't say, not in front of some dark apparition.

“ **Queen's dog,”** it spits, ink blood sprayed from the corner of its mouth.

Twilight watches, unmoved, as the shadowed being melts back into the sand by the black stone.

They both know which queen it referred to. Twilight, with a faint smirk, shakes his head. Despite his heart's desires, despite the pangs of the chains in his chest, he is the hero of the Light Realm. And his queen will be pleased to know that her _Wolf_ took care of the problem with the Arbiter's Ground.

He casts his gaze over the desert, the setting sun. It's a shame then, that they will have to spend the night anyway.

  
  


***

  
  


Time gives up pretense. He has polished his biggoron sword and unclasped some layers of armor and fiddled with his ocarina, and none of this let him clear his mind enough to pretend he isn't worried out of his skin.

Their evening routine is off. Even in dangerous circumstances, they had always managed to build an atmosphere of safety, of care. The ideal that none of them were at risk so long as they looked after one another.

Tonight's akin to the long nights he spent with Hyrule watching over wounds and illnesses that he _knows_ he could have prevented somehow. Everyone is of a second mind, and it boils over right after Wild finishes scrubbing his pots.

There's one bowl still full, untouched, a little to the side of their campfire.

The last of the pots vanish in a flash of blue lights. Wild knocks over his bedroll standing. “Okay, I'm done. I'm going to check up on him.”

“I'm coming too,” Four jumps to his feet, a split second faster than Sky, Warriors and Hyrule.

“Like hell I'm getting left out again,” Wind says fiercely.

Time wants to sigh and smirks. Goddesses, he never signed up to feel so much pride for these insane boys of his. Even if one of them takes the route of the electrified chu-chu instead, whom Time has to nudge with the tip of his boot.

“Probably doesn't want to see anyone,” Legend explains, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest, but he ends up on his feet too.

“We'll tell him you were worried too, don't worry,” Warriors drawls, and gets flipped off for good measure.

They find Twilight almost immediately. By common consensus, they'd agreed to begin their search with the chained black stone. Twilight had gazed upon it with the melancholy of an old man reminiscing about his lost wife and children. It had to be a direction, if nothing else, they reasoned. More so from the dark vibes Hyrule picked up from the strange object.

But for all their speculations, they find Twilight as soon as they set out to do so, sitting on some small steps in front of the monolith, facing away from them.

“You don't need to be here,” he says, not looking back.

“I think we do,” Wild snipes back, his stubborn expression eerily familiar. (Twilight's.)

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“You sure _seem_ fine to us,” Legend can't help snark.

“I. Am. Fine.”

Clipped words against the bars of a cage.

“Don't bullshit us, Rancher.” Warriors calls out, worry too sharp for calm.

The sand near the pedestal swirls against the wind, then dies down.

Behind Time, Hyrule's breath hitches up. Time understands. He knows enough magic to recognize it and its flares when emotions run high.

“Enough. All of you. We're not here to corner him. Pup, we just want to _talk_ with you. You haven't been yourself since we arrived here and we want to know how we can help you.”

Twilight whirls around with a feral snarl. “I SAID I'M FINE!”

For the first time since meeting Twilight, Time feels the urge to take a step back. He doesn't give in, never has, but part of him is shocked that a hero gave him the feeling.

It's wrong. So very wrong, to see softness sanded away by pain. The glare sent back is raw, unfiltered, untempered. A sliver of flame through a cover of shades.

And... quick as it flashed, the fury drains out of him, the edges gone and the scowl lifted into a guilty grimace. Shades cup around the flames like hands on candlelight, to protect others from its rays. Twilight's ears droop slightly. The look alone is an apology, and it's so obviously the word on his tongue.

But Twilight says nothing, huffs a little breaths and turns away from them.

It can't be a coincidence that he dangles his cursed amulet just far enough from himself that they get a glimpse of it. He's still not looking back.

“It's dark magic, Wind. I take the form of a wolf by using dark magic. And that stone...” They can see his fists clench. “That stone was the pathway to their world. Not the gate, not the key, just... the path.”

Time wants to urge Wind to err on the side of caution, but he can't without tipping off Twilight, and even the casual confession seem too important to mess up.

Wind only looks thoughtful for a split second. “So where's the key?”

“It's gone now. Goddesses know I've looked.” The admittance sounds like old shame. “But the sages of old used it often enough that the mirror left its mark on it.”

“You're...” Hyrule starts, getting looks from the rest. “You're connected to it.”

Twilight hunches, just enough that it's visible. “Yeah. Collected the shards in the sand, bled on the stone, prayed to the Goddesses. Anything that wouldn't hurt someone else, I guess.”

The glaring omission in that statement makes Time's heartbeat accelerate. What did his pup do?

“Anyway, it was foolish. The path can only open for the true ruler of the Twilight Realm, and boy, is it not me. But the experiments did have a few side-effects.” – a hand gestures vaguely to his forehead – “Uli did say the tattoo fit, in a rugged, strong man kind of way.”

That forced cheer gets a cringe out of Four. Time has to file the observation for later. He cannot turn his focus away from the pup now. Not when he's bleeding pain right in front of him.

“A mother's love is blind,” Wild croons.

“Brat. She'd love you all.” They can hear the grin on his voice. “Not that she wouldn't pull your ear to teach you good manners, but she would love you anyway. Her, Rusl, Colin, even little Lumi, they'd love you guys. I'm so lucky...”

His sigh floats away, forlorn, like a love letter on desert winds. Time instantly thinks of the ranch, of the horses and the singing they all clammer to. It makes him remember the sunlit smile Sky had worn when they found themselves surrounded by clouds and enormous birds, the whooping cry Wind let out when he recognized black sails on the horizon, the relief Legend had hidden at the sight of his rabbit-hooded friend.

Time wants to meet Twilight's family. Wants to know those people that raised this remarkable young man. Wants to help them make him understand he is cherished back.

Because he sees the slight shaking that wavered wolf fur on his shoulders. Almost misses the sob. The admiration, the awed tenderness had grown twisted, uneven from a darkened foundation. It builds in Twilight's frame, builds in the thicker shadows on him and the shifting sands at their feet.

And Twilight's fist strikes the pedestal beside him, and something Time cannot see passes into the sand by the pedestal. Hackles raised, Four's skin is paler. He is staring so intently, his eyes almost a different color entirely in the dusk. More worryingly, Time notes with a grimace, is the faint chime he thinks he hears rising from the Master Sword.

“Pup, just tell us.”

And Twilight does.

He looks them in the eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why am I so selfish?” he rasps in disgust. “Why am I so fucking greedy? Why do I _demand_ more than what I've been fucking blessed with?!”

Aren't they allowed a little selfishness? Time bites down on his reply. The goddesses gave them each a war. Why was it so wrong to want their peace once they'd won?

“I was lucky. Incredibly lucky. I found the children of my village, not one hair on their heads harmed. I rescued my childhood friend and restored her memories. I proved myself worthy of my teacher and let him rest. I... I saved Hyrule, Queen Zelda, the Twilight Realm. I didn't lose _anything._ ”

It's like being stripped off a mask he had forgotten he was wearing. Twilight's cry reaches deep, and it's too easy to see why it's spoken like it was a flaw rather than a magnificent triumph. How can he make his boy understand?

Wild shakes his head. “You lost things too.”

“Nothing that mattered,” Twilight adds, under his breath, a cruel bite at the truth. “Most of a village gone, half the army dead, Zora's succession in shambles. All before the Light Spirits told me my destiny. But _I'm_ fine. I'm great.”

“I can say with complete sincerity, Farmhand, that it doesn't help.” Legend juts his chin, then shrinks back, somber and restrained. “What you're doing. Don't salt your own wound. It mattered to you. It was real enough.”

Something about that strikes Twilight silent.

“She's not dead, Vet. She's not even hurt. She just had to leave to fulfill her duties as her people's rightful ruler. I knew that. I always knew that.”

And, strangely enough, Warriors speaks up, his voice soft. “Midna misses you, Rancher. She...” An hesitation. A chuckle. “Let's say she didn't say so in as many words, but sometimes, she'd get this look, as dusk falls.”

Wind's head snapped up at him. “Aw hell... you mean...”

“You weren't kidding,” Four muses, looking a bit embarrassed by the late realization.

And Wild hovers, looking so ready to rush forward toward his mentor. “Your scars _are_ worse than mine.”

“There it is...” Twilight scoffs, or maybe sniffs. He's not looking at them, he seems determined to avoid all their eyes. He's staring right ahead, at the black stone that seems to weep in the settling cold of night. “There, there's _**my**_ tragedy. A fucking broken heart. One... one person I wasn't allowed to keep.”

Time's heart ache. One person. So little, most would say, but his pup makes it sound like he had indeed lost his world.

“It's _NOTHING_ compared to you all!”

The shout echoes over the winds of the desert. They don't say anything.

They _can't_ say anything. Not when the core of Twilight's pain bristles at hints of their sympathy. Shame convinced him he isn't allowed to receive it. A witness to their woes no longer feeling adequate by his good fortune. It's all Time wanted for his successors.

_Nayru, forgive me for my lack of perspective._

“Why are you all here?” Twilight hisses, rubbing at his eyes. “You don't need to hear my whining. Goddesses, I hate feeling like this. I'm fine.”

Fine, is what he repeats. It's enough to make someone hate the word.

“You're not fine,” Wild says, firm.

The answering chuckle bites. “I _should_ be.”

And Time suddenly loses all his words, because his heart just skipped a beat. Farore be good, of all things to bequeath his eldest, it had to be this reluctance. Malon would have a field day with him.

“No one asks that you be invincible,” she speaks through him.

Twilight gives a full body flinch. Finally, he stands, stumbles as if drunk – on anger, on sadness, on self-pity – and he faces them all, red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes them wince.

“I'm the furthest thing from that. Her last words to me were 'See you later'. See you later, as she destroyed the only way to connect our worlds together! Wolf boy, dog boy,” – they pretend not to see Legend wince – “she used to call me that, patting my head or my back. Good boy. Wolf boy.” Twilight's scoff is brittle, shattered glass. “That's what I am. That stupid dog tied to a tree that waits with a big grin for a master that's never coming back.”

His head jerks to the side with a clap.

Legend pulls back his hand, stern despite the worry. “Don't insult yourself like that, Twilight. You're a Hero, a real one, you hear me?”

The pendant around Twilight's neck suddenly pulses with pitch black light. The markings on his face darken. He straightens with some erratic, wild motion, fangs gritting as he lifts Legend with one hand.

“ **Then why does it still hurt so much?!** ”

Legend slips through shaken fingers. He does not flinch or back away.

“Why, Vet?”

“That's the life of a hero,” Legend says, not unkindly. “Lots of scars that don't really fade.”

“A hero? How can I be a hero when she thought the only way to keep our worlds safe was to break them apart? We'd just won, but she still... How can I be when even the person that led me to my quest knew better?” Emptiness reflects in Twilight's watering eyes. “ _I thought she trusted me._ ”

Time's hand goes to his sword. Every instinct in his body demands that he fights off what torments his eldest this much, that he proves that princess wrong, that he makes her explain and sooth the injury she inflicted.

“She was wrong, Twi!” Wild screams, clearly aching the same way.

Time reaches forward, and, without hesitation, brings Twilight's face into his shoulder. Runs gentle fingers through the gentle brown locks. His boy shudders, then melts. Grips him with desperate strength. It's not long for the wetness to soak into Time's clothes, and he has rarely cared so little about it before.

“I'm sorry, Pup,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry.”

It's a long time before Twilight pulls back, sniffling.

“Pops, the heck ya talkin' about? Didya punch me when I wasn't lookin'?”

Wild and Wind immediately pointed accusing fingers at him, booing.

“Shush you,” he orders, stern, before softening for his eldest. “And no, I didn't sneak a hit on you, Pup, but I wronged you all the same. Sometimes, you're so good at helping others that I forget you can need help too. I should have asked earlier.”

A hand goes to the back of Twilight's head, and his lips pull into a boyish smile. “Ah, not sure I'd have sang, Old Man. Not for something this... childish.”

“It's not childish, Twilight,” Wind says with a sad, half-grin. “If it hurts, it hurts, right?”

Hyrule jumps on the line and wrestles Twilight's hands away from him. “Sometimes, you have to care for yourself too. Even if it's silly, even if it's a little thing...” And there's the shine of green magic dancing between them. “Brighten up your day.”

“Guys, please,” Twilight begins, red flushing his cheeks.

Four slips right beside him and pokes, which was unexpected enough to get a yelp. “No, no, you said your part, Twi. It's our turn.” The smirk is impish, but subdued. “We're on your side. And we do need to apologize.”

Twilight throws his arms up in frustration. “What for? This is just my problem! Nothing that you need to be concerned with. Nothing that you did.”

“Wrong.” Time doesn't notice who says it. Mostly, because he's heard more than just one voice. (It could have been eight.)

“Because... because we let you take it all on. More than your share.” Warriors crosses his arms, huffs. “It's a leader's role to care for his men, and the soldiers to take on something for their brothers. It's how units work.”

Time ignores the pinch of guilt. The Captain hadn't meant it for him, but he'll take the advice to heart anyway. It should be fine. He can see the plans being born behind Warriors' eyes. For once, he's rather convinced that none of the younger ones will protest whatever rigid protocol Warriors' cooking.

“It's not like that,” Twilight mumbles. Weaker, less stubborn. “I love helping y'all.”

“Makes you feel useful, doesn't it?” Legend scoffs, but it is soft enough that Time can't even bring himself to chastise him.

“No. You deserve it!” he says with sudden heat, eyes clearing. “All of you. You all deserve someone willing to listen and help you. I... I just wanted to help you walk through your troubles. To help you find reasons to smile again...”

He sees it, and he wants to laugh. How fitting, that it's words like these that bring soft smiles on all their faces.

“Well, mission accomplished?” Four smirks.

“Darn it, Rancher,” Warriors grunts, giving Twilight a warning look that goes ignored.

“Can't wrestle that one away from me.”

“Oh, we shall see about that. But first,” – Warriors plops down on the sand, not a care for the time and place – “we're not leaving this unsaid. Spill already so we can smile you.”

It's absurd, but Twilight's gaze flares for a short moment with competitive spirit. Those two would never cease to amaze him in the strangest ways. Twilight kicks a little sand at the captain before letting himself lean in Time's grip.

“I hate her...” he whispers, and the shame shrouds him smaller. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she tie my heart to a promise that she never intended to fulfill? I hate her...” he whispers again, near inaudible. “And I hate that I love her still...”

“So?” Wild slides in.“You know me. You know how I feel about those people from my past.”

_'They were friends with me. The whole world told me I was friends with them. Sometimes, it's like I can't escape it. Even if I don't remember what food they liked, when we met, what secrets they had besides what a few glimpses told me...'_

“Remember what you told me?”

Twilight huffs, looking sullen and trapped. It takes a little sigh, and then knocking their foreheads together for him to admit. “S'fine if you don't know.”

Time nods, chasing the feeling he usually avoids. The bittersweet triumph at the cost of so many friendships. The lack of recognition meant for strangers on familiar faces.

“It can be difficult, to share people's joy when the same reason brings us pain. You can be of two minds on the same topic, Pup. People aren't that simple.”

“I feel weak.”

“You're not weak, Twilight,” Sky said with a sad smile. “If I lost my Zelda... I'd shatter.”

“Need I explain what losing Malon would do to me, Pup?” Time adds, rueful.

“But they're... you're couples. Real couples. We were never...”

Legend smacks his shoulder. “'What if's can be more painful than a clean break,” he says, and the two of them look like mirror images, lost to their dreams for the span of a heartbeat. Then, sharper, “Don't apologize.”

Twilight's mouth clicks shut.

“We're in your corner,” Four says with a private smile. “As long as it takes to make you feel better.”

The blush returns. Time will be asking for context later, though he has an inkling. Wind shuffles to one feet, then swears and pats Twilight on the back without looking at him.

“And, you know, there's nothing shameful about crying. Or missing people. Or, you know, strange sadness.”

The pup breaths out a watery giggle, and a whimpered 'brat!' Wind smugly croons to the others, saying that was how it was done. Right until the laughter turns into a shudder, and they gather round again.

“It's okay, Twi,” Sky cooes, bringing him into the folds of his sailcloth. “Let it all out.”

The pup's fight left him. Too drained by the confession. Too raw from unbinding the wraps around his wounds. It's up to them to take care of it, and there's not one of them that hesitates. They're not in the habit of leaving suffering ignored, besides their own. Not anymore.

They promise to be better.

They have to be, for each other's sake. And they will be, Time will do everything in his power to ensure it comes to pass. Their group will come out of it reforged by their own inner fires. Their bonds unbreakable, their trust rewarded.

Thank the Goddesses for the pup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, done...
> 
> You know... this one gave me trouble. There were a few different ideas at first, and I hadn't set out to do a 8 + 1, explicitly. But it happened anyway. Now, the thing about Twilight's angst is that... well, it's not too varied. Midna's the frontrunner, with the pain of the wolf form in second place, from what my memories serve. In the end, I think I did enough explorations in his conversations with the other Links in the previous chapters that yes, this is an issue that needs to be tackled. It could have been looked at with Legend, but that wasn't the point of that chapter.
> 
> In the end, it's Twilight, who is good at being an emotional rock for the others to cling to, but lets his own pains chip away at his heart. Yes, it's just a broken heart, but broken hearts hurt – or so I'm told. It's hard not to dismiss it when you look at these amazing people, who all deal with worse pains, and think that you have a right to yours. But, guys, never compare trauma. Twilight started to subconsciously do it, and he normally has a good handle on things, but having it shoved in his face brought it all bubbling back up.
> 
> My point was... Twilight's allowed to be sad and hurt by what happened to him, regardless of other Links' backstories. I think I just wanted to look at that, and maybe bring the other Links in the comforting role.


End file.
